Shit Big Don Says/Does

I work on a 10 month contract. Therefore, I am off work from June 1-July 31. I travel back to Southwest Virginia for those 2 months to stay with my dad aka Big Don--which is quiet the adventure, let me tell ya.

Big Don is 75 years old and a recent widower--he looks somewhat like an older Tom Browkaw with less hair--and has been declared by many of my friends as "the nicest man in the world". Everyone who meets my dad loves him and I'm pretty sure many of my high school relationship lasted a lot longer because of conversations with my dad (and my mom's cooking)--fringe benefits of dating me in high school. Big Don is 6'4, thin, and an endless source of entertainment. Additionally, my dad is the proud "Mayor" of Slant, Virginia (this is funny because only about 16 people, 32 cows, 14 stray cats, and our dogs Twinkie Louise, Ranger, and Tonto live in our community of Slant where there is an official state sign marking your entrance (welcome to) to the town on the front and your departure (now leaving) on the back (seriously--I can't make that up!)--Slant is a suburb of Fort Blackmore which has an estimated population a little over 100 people, 114 cows, 32 goats, 18 dogs, with 12 churches of every type of Baptist known to man, and unfortunately only a few dumpster kitties since they changed waste management facilities). The title of Mayor is merely a joke from childhood because my sister and I always said we lived in "downtown Slant" unlike those who lived on the "outskirts" and at the time our neighbor and oldest resident of Slant was the "Mayor"--what?! ya got to keep yourself entertained on the farm. Since our neighbor's death a few years ago, Dad was officially voted Mayor by me, Crazy Aunt, my sister, my mom, our 3 dogs, and the one-armed/one-eyed guy that lives out the road from us--clearly, it was a landslide victory for the title.

Big Don wakes up on most mornings around 6 a.m.--not only does he wake up early, but he wakes up in the best mood ever--everyday--even before drinking coffee. I look at this as being a freak--no one can be that happy to be out of bed this early without some caffeine. He makes coffee (using at least 3-4 different spoons which drives me crazy), takes Twinkie walking down the "main drag" of town (aka our driveway up to the highway that passes by three houses--which is officially downtown Slant) to get the paper, and then nods off while reading the paper and watching the weather channel for the next 3 hours--as if the weather forecast is going to change all of sudden--maybe the partly cloudy day is going to change to mostly cloudy and ruin his plans of mowing the lawn--which seems to be on his agenda everyday.

I wake up around 9 am. I defend this by saying my body thinks it 8 am because I am on central time-therefore I am not a "sleeping all day" as Big Don says. Quick as my feet hit the floor, Big Don wants to talk and make conversation. For those that know me, I am not a morning person. I do not talk and must drink myself into a caffeine buzz in order to be social. Give me an hour. I mostly just set and listen until I can function or respond to what he is saying.

This morning the conversation ranged from "well, Crazy Aunt called this morning and she has a few weeds in her garden and this, that, and the other that needed to be done out there... now, I tell ya, I got my own weeds and my own shit to worry about.. I ain't going out there to be her weed puller and I know she was waiting for me to volunteer I could sense it"... "well, the weather channel says it may rain.. doesn't look like it.. oh, here we go.. local on the 8s.. let's see what they say now... yep, hasn't changed... I can probably mow and this, that, and the other around here this evening"..."I talked to someone on the phone this morning... do you know who that was? I can't remember"... I was asleep dad, so no..."well, Nickelsville Days (a local town celebration) is coming up.. you and Cindy (my best friend) want to go to that and walk around like girls do--ya know, looking at things, going to the toilet together, courting boys--that is your alls ol' stompin' grounds there!"... in reference to my dog Twinkie Louise who by this point has crawled up on my lap "ya know, it's like she has a little soul in there.. I swear, she is lovvvvvve herself... and she acts like she loves you because you are home.. but I know I am her favorite, but she's not gonna tell you that now is she.. not with both of us sitting here because she doesn't want to make you mad... ya know, she was alseep under that pillow this morning... bout crushed her when I set down cause I didn't see her"... "welll... I think I am going to make me a fried egg and maybe some fried bologna.. I got some on sale... I think it was about to go AWOL (Absent Without Official Leave) so they marked it down.. I figure I have got a few days to eat it before it goes totally and completely bad... if Twinkie eats it and doesn't get the runs, it's still good... want me to fry ya up some too? my bay-bay needs to eat a good braaaaakfast!"... no thanks, dad... I don't want any sloppy, slimey eggs (my favorite Jesco White quote: click here Midwesterners to be exposed to The Dancing Outlaw's take on eggs)

Big Don goes into the kitchen and I see him around the corner of the fridge doing something in the spot we feed Twinkie... Dad, what are you doing?... "well, I was just feeding Twinkie some of that taco salad you made yesterday and some bologna (as he looks down at Twinkie who is shaking her tail like she is on doggy crack) she told me she wanted some for braaaaaaaakfast and bay-bay must have a good braaaaakkfast!".. dammmnit Dad! she is going to die of heart attack if you keep feeding her like that!... "well... reckon there is anything we could do for her so she doesn't have a heart attack?... umyeah.. "well, what?"... DON'T FEED HER BOLOGNA!...

A few minutes pass. "soooooooo.... you think it's okay to feed her vienna sausage?"

I love my dad.

*After this was posted I set down on the couch and Big Don has finally turned off the weather and is watching tennis. Twinkie hops up on my lap. Ugh.. Twinkie... your breath stinks. "Smells like a dead animal, huh? I think she goes outside and eats cat shit or something"... probably... "she probably smells like Venus Williams--her breath looks like it would stink just based on her teeth."

Tears follow.