Summer, I Hope You're Ready to Take Care of Me in the Manner to Which I Have Become Accustomed

Seriously, I don't know why the H~ I'm moving.  My parents take SUCH good care of me.  I don't pay rent, and here's what I get for my money:  My dad goes to the store and gets beer for me, vacuums out my car and fixes all things broken.  My mom does all my laundry and folds it and places it on the ladder leading up to my adorable loft bedroom.  She cooks all my meals, makes coffee, and even has drinks waiting when I get home from a long night at work.  The other night I nodded off without finishing my beer and when I woke up she asked if I was ready for it again.  Here she had corked it and put it in the fridge for me!

Here's a day in my life.  Normally I work at 4pm, so the following meals took place between me waking up at 11am and leaving for work at 3:45pm:

Breakfast.

Snack.

Lunch.

Afternoon Snack.

Dessert...Baklava.

Hey New Orleans, Get Ready for the Hexum-Grimeses

I leave Northern Minnesota on Tuesday. Summer and I took a job that will have us in New Orleans through September and then somewhere near Daytona Beach, Florida from October through December.

When I told my dad I was moving, he started getting mad. I told him, "dad, I'm 34. I'm supposed to move out."

...and I avoid winter for at least four more months.

We are literally moving into an Anthropologie catalog. Check out our apartment in New Orleans, blocks from Bourbon Street:

Nueva Casa del Grimes y Hexum

Kelly and the Tampons

Yesterday at work, I went to the co-ed employee bathroom.  Whilst in there, I noticed a tampon applicator in the garbage.  The paper here, the applicator there...with no effort whatsoever to cover them up.  No toilet tissue wrapping, no shoving it down in the garbage, no nothing.

It wasn't mine.  But somebody might see me leave the bathroom...and think it was mine.  So here I was, shoving paper towel on top of it and smooshing it down into the bin.  And I didn't even do it! 

Part of being a woman around a bunch of guys is accepting the fact that the assumption will be...the tampon is yours.

Consider the following story.  When Kelly bought her first house, she right away (within the first month) had an issue with the septic and invited a bunch of guys over to dig it up and fix it.  She was playing hostess, and went out to serve lemonade on a tray to all the workers.  All of the men were standing over the hole in the ground, staring.  As she approached, they looked at her, disgusted, like she was the most grossest, stupidest person in the world.  She didn't get it until she saw what they saw in the hole:

Hundreds and thousands and millions and trillions of tampons.  Completely filling the hole in the ground.  She was horrified.  But it wasn't her!  Logically, you can't produce that many in just one month!  Try explaining that to a bunch of dudes.  She just shrugged her shoulders and went back in the house, branded forever the girl who flushes tons of tampons.

The Most Wonderful Place on Earth

Cascade Bay Water Park, Eagan MN.

$9 entrance fee (cheap!).  Tons of water slides, plenty of sun and a lazy river.  You can spend the whole day just afloatin' down the lazy river.  I remember when Murphy was a little baby boy and we'd float and float and sleep and sleep for hours.  And now he's nine years old.  Gosh.

Murphy

This is the water slide you can go down right on your tube.  When Miles was a little baby boy and we were stuck in a long line at the top of this slide, he had to go pee SO bad and we kept saying wait wait wait we'll go to the bathroom, wait dude, just another minute, but he couldn't and just peed right at the top poor thing.  So yah, there's probably a high pee content at this place.

Pete, geared up for the hot hot hot weather in jeans and cowboy boots:

I love Miles' face in this one:

The only thing I might change is how they don't let you float and float and float while drinking beer.

Overheard at Work

Well-meaning, but possibly drunk woman to younger, single man:

"When you start looking for a wife, here's what you look for.  Trust me.  I know this, I have kids.  First, no illigitimate babies.  Second, no student loan debt.  You marry somebody with student loan debt, guess what? you're gonna be stuck paying it off.  Third, no credit card debt.  You marry somebody with credit card debt, guess what? you're gonna be stuck paying it off.  Fourth, no midgets in the family.  What?!  You think I'm kidding?  You don't want midget babies.  Trust me."

You Say Clamato...

Here we go again with the Clamato Jugs:

Remember...?
http://kadyhexum.blogspot.com/2010/09/clamato-jugs-and-other-valuables.html

Not One...But TWO White Russian Stories

Whenever I think of White Russians, I always think of the time my sister Kasey and I were playing cards with some friends.  One of the friends and Kasey butted heads all night long.  Well if you know Kasey, alcohol is not the cause of her loud and boisterous behavior.  That's just how she is naturally.  And in fact, she was probably nursing her brand new baby, so she probably was slowly sipping one drink.  So when the friend said, "Have another White Russian, KASEY!", it was like...crickets...AWKWARD...

Now it has become the catch phrase in life for when somebody is totally not drunk, but you accuse them of it anyway to be funny.  You can use it too.  It's my gift to you.

"Have another White Russian, KASEY!"

So lately the White Russian has become my favorite drink.  I am hooked!  I love them.  You just do equal parts Vodka and Kahlua and a splash of cream.  Delish.  The other night I used up the last of the Kahlua and so today when my mom and I were at the liquor store, I asked her if she wanted me to replace the bottle.  "No!", she said, "We never use it.  I bought that in Cancun."

(We went to Cancun in the year 2000.)

"MOM!!!  You could have told me before I drank it!!"

"Well, you're not dead are you?"

Steam Show!

My Mom and Dad and I went to the Roosevelt Steam and Gas show on Saturday and got to see a bunch of cool old tractors and steam engines.  They had a parade and a demonstration and kids games and my favorite meal, the Taco in a Bag.  Highway robbery at $4.00, but I digress.

At the end of the parade, we learned a lot about steam engine tooting.  It was more an ear-blast of a demonstration of several different signals, like the short-long-two shorts, and the one long and the five shorts etc etc etc.  The only problem was they blew the horn each time and it was way too loud and kids were crying.  "Yah, we got it.  Jeez."

This, I didn't get, an old, unworking water pump, with a basin filled with dirty water that we were instructed not to drink.  How about just not putting water in it?

We even got to see old steam engine equipment removing the chaff from wheat.  But first I was crowned "Miss Wheat Steam and Especially Gas".

"Thank you for the flooowers.  Thank you for the flooowers."

So you know the old saying, 'give a man a fish and he eats for a day, teach him to fish and he eats for a lifetime'?  Well, I'm about to teach you to fish, so listen up.  And this trick is so fun I'm giving this whole post the 'Currently Obsessed With...' label, because I'm currently obsessed with it!

First, you need a wheat field with an inattentive farmer-owner.  When he's not looking, glean a little and pluck the top off.  Like so:

Then, you roll it around and around in your hands until you feel the chaff breaking off, like so:

Then you end up with the seeds and a buncha extra loose chaff, like so:

Blow away the old chaff, like so:

And you got yourself a not-so-tasty treat.  Warning: not for "Gluten-Intolerants".

Those lying fakers will just have to stick it in their mouths to look cool, like so:

See ya next year, boys!

I Was Such a Cute Pre-Teen. Ew.

All this talk about deer hunting reminds me...

The following story comes from 1989, when I was 12 years old.  If you're offended at a story about a 12-year-old accidentally getting drunk and it kind of being her dad's fault: STOP READING. 

OK.  When I was 12, I shot my first deer, and so my dad told me I could have a shot of whiskey.  Right of passage or something?  So he left with the three-wheeler to go and get the deer and I stayed at the shack and had my shot of whiskey, and maybe another one.  And maybe another one.  I have no idea how many because that was over 20 years ago.  I do remember I was smart enough to replace the missing whiskey from the bottle with water so that he wouldn't know.  Jeez.  Anyway, I suppose I was curious.  Whatever. 

He came back with my deer and then he informed me that we had to go back out and hunt some more.  I was like, "WHA...?"  Because I thought I was done hunting, maybe forever.  Nope.  Anyways, I was pretty shnockered but I didn't want him to know that!  So I did my best to pretend I wasn't a completely drunk 12-year-old while we walked like what seemed to be 16 miles through the woods (and by the way, I was probably wearing my brother's boots and wool pants which were way too big), and finally we sat down on a downed tree.  You were supposed to be very quiet when hunting, and so in my mind I leaned over and barfed to the side so stealthily and so silently that there was no way my dad, sitting right next to me, would ever ever find out.  I wiped my mouth and looked straight ahead, and then heard my dad laughing. 

He laughed some more and said, "You went and got yourself drunk, didn't you?"
I couldn't BELIEVE he found out!  How could he possibly have known, with how quietly I barfed one foot away from him?  I was busted though.  "BLAaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.  I don't feeeeeeeeeeeeel gooooood."  He put his arm around me and said, "Now isn't this fun?  Isn't drinking wonderful?  Let's quit hunting and go back to the cabin and have some more.  I'll pour you a glass.  We can drink ALL day."

Now that's good parenting.

Seriously, Who Breaks a Toilet Seat?

Might I remind you (CLICK HERE before reading any further) of a story from last summer, one in which my dad made reference under his breath to my butt being large?

Check out the current state of our toilet, taken today, 8/7/2011:

Painters tape?  We must be out of duct tape...

I saw it and freaked out, thinking my mom was going to be in real big trouble.  I'm reminded of my favorite quote from A Thousand Splendid Suns:  “Learn this now, and learn it well, my daughter: Like a compass needle that points north, a man’s accusing finger always finds a woman. Always.”

When I asked my parents who broke the toilet seat, my mom opened her mouth to confess, but before she could speak, my dad admitted it.  How sad that I, (though not a man), immediately pointed my accusing finger at my mom.  How hilarious that even she thought she did it.

Seriously, who breaks a toilet seat?  ME.  And my dad.  Oh, you KNOW I took the opportunity to call him: (not-quite-so-under-my-breath)

"fat ass".

Country Cousins

Cousin Jacqui from Texas came up to visit!  You may remember her from such stories as the 'Tuba Tutor'.  Her mom (my auntie Betsy) and daughters (Willow- 10, and River-5), and my aunties Julie and Debbie drove up from Hutchinson.  Apparently it took 10 hours to get here.  The entire way I was getting texts from Jacqui:

• Looks like we're heading into a thunderstorm...we might not be there until tomorrow morning.
• A kid just passed us on a trike.  I was tempted to ask for a ride...
• Stopped at a bakery. Stopped at a coffee shop. Stopped at a bead store.  Stopped at a gas station.
• Finishing up lunch in Walker.  I think this is the never ending trip.
• Just saw a sign that says Blackduck.
• And we just got stopped for 20 minutes for road construction.
• We just went through Baudette.  Please Lord, let it be over soon.
• Just left Williams.  Stopped to pick up cereal and ice cream.

Needless to say, Jacqui was happy to finally get here:

The girls went straight to business eating popsicles and finding baby mini frogs in our fire pit.

And then I got straight to business receiving a 6-hands massage.  How great is my life?

Then we visited 'Silent City', the unfortunately-named cemetery where my family is buried:

Why is there a bullet casing on this poor couple's stone?  Never mind.

Sunflower patch!

(Check out that face.  Now imagine it for the following story.  My mom had a lot of kids, so she knows all the tricks, especially for getting rid of them when they're buggin' her, or in the way.  She just says very cheerily, "OK, see ya!  Love ya!  Bye!"  Well, River wouldn't fall for it.  With the above face and a robot voice, she said, "Me. Not. Leaving.")

Then cousin Corky came over and started telling the most hilarious stories about his colon cancer issues.  Apparently he knows exactly how to make his own gastro-tube (gas reliever) out of a piece of surgical tubing, a match, and a knife.  He said he got about 5 minutes of fart out of it. 



Here's Jacqui and Julie's reaction as Cousin Sheriel said, "oh, and the stink!"

...And Willow found a 7-leaf clover!!!  (I was kind of jealous...)

...And River did her Gnomeo cheerleader impression.

...And we couldn't get my dad to shut up, so Jacqui did the best she could:

...And River spent three days petting this dead bear.  Is that weird?

See ya next year, Crazies!

Lordy, Lordy, Look Who's Forty

Did you think I would forget, Kelly? 

p.s. Some people think turning 40 offers an air of dignity, decorum, class perhaps.
 

...and clench

She's very serious.

I love Keri's face here.

UPDATE:

Kelly got some bad news today, and in a spirit of loving sisterhood, I thought I ought to post a gorgeous picture of her to be nice.

Love you!

Vocabulary Lesson

Sometimes I make up words.  It's not on purpose or anything; I just can't think of the right one sometimes.  So the other night at the restaurant, I was bussing a table, and clutzily knocked over a glass, which rolled off the table and totally broke. 

"Don't move," I told the group of four old fisherman at the next table, and picked up the big chunks.  "I'm gonna have to get the vacuum, this glass really sharded.  Shard.ed?  SHARDED.?  I guess I mean shattered."

As I walked away, I heard one of the old fishermen whisper to the other, in the most Southern accent you can imagine, "I thought sharded was a shit 'n a fart."

It's Not Connerd!

When my auntie Julie was a little girl, there was a kid named Conrad who lived down the road, and all the neighborhood kids took to callin' him Connerd.  Well he had enough of it one day and screamed, "It's not Connerd!  It's Conwad, Conwad, CONWAD!"

And That's the Toot

My cousin Jacqui takes an elderly woman named Mrs. Osgood into Austin to have therapy about once a month.  She is the properest of propers and would certainly NEVER allow her children to use the word fart. 
One week Jacqui had to bring her daughters River and Willow along for the ride.  Jacqui jumped out to pump gas, and as she stood beside her car, heard River say, "One time, when we were in Minnesota, my mom farted so loud it sounded like a tuba!"  (p.s. I have heard Jacqui fart and 'tuba' is a perfect description.)

Of course, Jacqui laughed hysterically while Mrs. Osgood sat absolutely stone-faced.  Later, Jacqui asked Willow why River said that.  Willow told Jacqui that she was explaining to Mrs. Osgood about how she was so relieved because she had just passed her standardized testing in math.  She had been struggling but Jacqui and Willow prepped and studied and worked very hard and Willow ended up not only passing, but getting a perfect score of 100!  Mrs. Osgood said, "your mom must be a very good tutor!"

Willow said, "yah, she's the best!"

Which reminded River of the time in Minnesota when Jacqui "tuted" so loud it sounded LIKE A TUBA.

River, 5 and Willow, 10

Well, They're Still Married...

My dad and I were bear hunting when I was 14.  We were sitting up against a hay bale.  I was oddly quiet, and ol' Hal was wondering why he didn't have to constantly shush me like usual.  He looked over and noticed that I looked pretty sad.  He asked what was wrong, and I said, "Dad?  Were you and mom really going to get a divorce?"

He was confused, but remembered that the night before after hunting we had stopped into a shack belonging to a guy he went to high school with.  While we were there he told the following story:

"Well, Dianne and I had HAD it.  I packed up my guns, my dogs, my clothes, and took off down the driveway in the truck.  I saw Dianne running after the truck waving her arms, so I stopped. 

'"What do you want?' I asked her.  'Aren't you going to take the kids?'  She yelled.  'No!  I don't want 'em!'  I said, and she said, 'Well I don't want 'em either.'

"We stared at eachother for a while, and finally I turned the truck around.  I unpacked all of my stuff.  We realized we could never get a divorce because neither of us wanted those darn kids."

Still keeping the folks together,
Kady