Measurements, the Unspoken, and Porter Wagoner

Val is no Biblical Samson. Her strength comes from within, not from her long flowing locks. Which are excessively long, not having been trimmed since before her Unfortunate HospitVALzation back in 2022. That's a long time!!! Normal hair grows about 1/2 inch per month. That would give Val 24 extra inches of hair! Thankfully, Val does not have normal hair. It's limp and seemingly lifeless, and grows slower. That said, my hair was down between my shoulder blades. A supermullet of epic proportion!

It's not that I didn't WANT to get my hair cut. It was just inconvenient. You may recall that my salon of choice was Terrible Cuts. The chain. My location was in a mini-mall, with Little Caesar's Pizza on the other end, and a Payday Loan business in between. I was fine with that. I'd gone there for years, even taking the boys when they were young.

Then I got sick, and wasn't feeling up to an outing for a haircut. Then my knees were really hurty, and I didn't like to think about walking up the hill from parking to get inside Terrible Cuts. Nor trying to bend my right knee to perch my foot on the footrest of the lifty chair. THEN there was a fire!!! In Little Caesar's. Which swept through the ceilings (FIREWALLS, anybody?) and ruined all three businesses. The renovations have just begun over the past couple months. I have no idea if the same businesses will even return. So Val has been a woman without a salon. I made do by trimming my own bangs. And occasionally having The Pony or Hick cut off the ends so they stayed out of my collar.

For the past year, at least, and likely more... my "stylists" have been reluctant to pick up the scissors. The Pony did a fine job the first time, but seems to have lost interest in coiffing me. Hick always has something else to do. I'd better not find out he's been cutting Harem hair!

I could stand it no longer. On Sunday evening, I TOLD Hick he was cutting my hair. I put on an old collar-less shirt and grabbed the scissors and a comb. I wet my hair at the kitchen sink, and took Hick out on the back porch. 

"Just do it like last time. Comb it straight down. I want it at shoulder level. Here. Start at this side. Then work your way around to to the other side."

What could possibly go wrong? Most people know what a shoulder is. They can run a comb down through a section of hair. Cut along the bottom, at the shoulder. Then continue combing down swatches of hair, cutting them off even with the first section. RIGHT????

It started out all right. Though I questioned Hick if that was my shoulder. He said it was. My first panic occurred at the back of my head.

"WAIT! Why do I feel the scissors at the base of my skull? STOP! Why are you up that high?"

"I'm not, Val. I'm just cutting." SNIP SNIP.

My second panic was when Hick got to the end, the other front side. He didn't even want me to turn around!

"What do you mean? You HAVE to look me in the face. To make sure both sides are even!"

"No I don't. It's even." I forced him to look me in the face. "Well. This side might need a little more..."

I felt where Hick had cut. My hair was GONE! My shoulders won't be reintroduced to that hair for at least three months! Maybe four! How can a man not know what a shoulder is? Does he think it's a void midway between ear and collar bone?

Of course all Hick the Gaslighter had to say was: "I think it looks cute."

When I picked up The Pony on Monday, to come out for our BBQ, I had to ask.

"Aren't you going to say anything about my haircut?"

"Oh. Well..."

"I suppose your hesitation says all I need to hear."

"No. It's... shorter." 

"I KNOW! Your dad can't do one simple thing! I know you're not old enough to remember, but Dad has made me look like PORTER WAGONER! I have that CD of Porter and Dolly's 20 greatest hits. Maybe you remember the cover."

"Uh. Kind of."

"Yeah. That's what I thought. I have Porter Wagoner's haircut. Only shorter."

I find it kind of odd that not one person has mentioned my haircut. When usually that's the first thing they say. Like the clerks I see regularly at the Gas Station Chicken Store, or in 10Box. I guess they're not Porter Wagoner fans.

Unexpected, Probably Doomed, But FREE

In Saturday's box of chocolates, life gave me a rooster. I didn't ask for a rooster. I didn't want a rooster. But Hick brought one home.

"Look what I traded for today im bringing him home"

In typical Hick fashion, the story changed by the time he got home. I never found out what he traded, because the tale changed to the rooster being FREE.

"Last weekend, a guy was down at the flea market with a rooster he was trying to get rid of. I told him the lady who lives next to the flea market has chickens. That he could just let it go. So he did. The lady with the chickens didn't want him--"

"I guess not! I'm sure she has her own rooster!"

"Anyway, she kept runnin' him off. So he came back to the flea market, and was hanging out there all week."

"He's probably starving!"

"No. He was free-rangin'. But today, Old Buddy was feeding him potato chips. I figured I'd just bring the poor guy home with me."

"How is THAT going to work? The dogs or something wild will kill him!"

"I thought they'd just sniff at him. But they chased him all around the yard! It took me about an hour to catch him! He's over in the old chicken pen now."

"He'll fly out!"

"No. He's had his wings clipped. I didn't know that, until he tried to fly and get away from the dogs."

"Oh, no! He can't even roost in a tree! Something's going to eat him for sure!"

"You don't know that."

"What do you plan to feed him?"

"He's free-rangin' for now. Down in the back of the old goat pen."

"I feel really bad for him. There's no way for him to survive here! He was probably better off at the flea market! Somebody might have picked him up and taken him home for a pet."

"Or he mighta got in the road and got run over. That won't happen here."

I don't know. I hope this rooster can survive. The odds are not good. We used to have 33 chickens. Before the neighbor's dogs found out. I'm sure those dogs are gone now. But our dogs haven't been raised with chickens. They'll let the squirrels run rampant, and the birds eat out of their food pan. But this rooster is a new challenge.

_____________________________________________________________

On Sunday morning, Hick went over to the pen to look for the rooster.

"I don't see him. He might be down in the woods."

"Or EATEN! By something else in the woods. Can he get in the chicken house?"

"Yeah. He can get in there. But he ain't there."

Sunday evening, Hick walked over to look for the rooster again. Nothing.

"I don't know where he is. He can get out, over behind the BARn. Jack could probably get in under the fence there, but I don't think Pepper knows about it. Maybe he's just living down in the woods to avoid the dogs, since he knows they'll go after him."

Well. Hick IS an optimist...

Five minutes later, Hick was in his recliner, watching TV. I was at the kitchen table innernetting. I heard the dogs barking in the front yard. Kind of frantic, not in their usual play mode. Then they came around to the back porch, tussling and worrying each other and yipping, as they are wont to do.

"I think that might be him in the front yard! I just saw something run across!"

Hick got up and looked out the door. Yes. It was his rooster. Maybe the dogs are not out to kill, just have a little fun with him, since they gave up and came back on the porch. I suppose the rooster heard Hick over there looking around for him, and came back to where Hick let him loose when they got home.

I hope this rooster can survive. He might even get a name.

_____________________________________________________________

The Newest Albatross in Hick's Flock

You may recall that Hick decreed we buy an old truck as part of the deal for Lap House. It was not running, sitting in the driveway, and Hick said Some Guy wouldn't sell us the house unless we bought the truck as well.

Hick's plan was to give (sell by working out the cost) the truck to Old Buddy, who said he wanted it. After a couple months of sitting in Old Buddy's driveway, Hick figured Old Buddy wasn't fixing it up as he had planned. Old Buddy said he couldn't find some parts. The next day, Hick was cleaning out Lap House, and found those parts. 

Anyhoo... Hick took back the truck, and signed the title back into his name rather than Old Buddy's. Supposedly Hick wasn't going to start charging Old Buddy half his labor to purchase the truck until he had it running. So there was really no incentive for Old Buddy to get to work on that truck. I agreed with Hick taking it back. I told him not to put MY name on the title, heh, heh. He still hasn't gotten the spelling of my name changed on his trailer title. I'm pretty sure he has not yet gotten insurance on that trailer, either!

Anyhoo... Hick never told me what he was going to do with the $2000 truck. Still hasn't. But it appeared without warning on Wednesday afternoon, between the time I left for my leg therapy and the time I returned. It was parked in front of the BARn. I thought somebody was stealing all of Hick's treasures! I had to call and see if he was expecting somebody over there for hunting or junking or burning stuff from out of Lap House. Nope. Hick had just brought home the $2000 truck.

It's a Ford F150. Has a few dents, but is not at all as bad-looking as I expected. Of course, it doesn't run. So there's that. But it has a nice matching camper shell. The tires look drivable. I'm sure Hick will get right on repairing it, in all his spare time. 

Maybe I should reach out to Hick's Harem, and have them ask Hick to take them for a ride in his "new" truck.

Hick's FREE Magnet is Fully Charged

Hick and HOS (Hick's Oldest Son) were up to shenanigans on Thursday afternoon. Hick was supposed to be home around 4:30, to carry in groceries I was getting for our Monday cookout. In typical Hick fashion, he stood me up! I got a text at 4:20...

"I'll be right back had to help HOS do something have stuff in car and ill get it"

Here's the translation: Hick was doing some errand with HOS, and was running late. He told me to leave the groceries in T-Hoe and he would carry them in when he got home. Sounds easy enough, but I didn't think the frozen groceries would benefit from the wait. So I carried them in, and left the shelf stuff for Hick.

Meanwhile, Hick was off getting something for FREE.

"I took a picture. I know how your people like to see stuff I get for free."

That's a camper shell sitting on Hick's new(est) used trailer. I can't figure out the whole scenario. It's quite possible that THIS is the something that Hick needed to help HOS with. In his evasive way, Hick provided spotty information. I will need to hone my interrogation techniques.

"I was dropping HOS off at his house, and he said there was this camper just down the road. I was gonna go get it, but I figured it would be easier if HOS was with me. So we went and loaded it on my trailer."

I am suspicious. Because when I got the initial text, I called Hick, and his statements led me to believe that he was currently at home, but with HOS, and driving him back. So I'm not sure if Hick picked him up first and they came to get the trailer, or what. It would be odd if Hick was driving around town with his trailer. UNLESS that's the day they were mowing assorted flip yards, and had to unload the mower. Which Hick can usually do by himself. See? This story is full of holes!

Anyhoo... Hick has a new used FREE camper shell. Which he has no use for. Already having a camper shell that came off The Pony's first truck, which Hick has put on an old wooden trailer which is an atrocity, but capable of hauling stuff. I doubt he would use it on SilverRedO, even if it would fit.

Nor can Hick use this camper shell on the new old $2000 truck which he made us buy from the seller of Lap House. That story tomorrow...

Hick Makes His Pick

The Hickcision has been reached. Hick picked his cleanout crew for Cheap House.

"I'm gonna give it to HOS (Guy 2). I think him and his buddy will get it done on time, because there's two of them. They said they'd do it for $500. 

Guy 1 told me $600, but he said he could do it for $500. I'm just worried he won't get done on time. He's been trimming a tree for one of my Senior Center gals, and he still ain't done. I'm the one who recommended him for her. So if that ain't done, he don't need to be startin' somethin' else. I told him our deal is still on, though, to trim a tree at Cheap House.

Guy 3 might not be able to do it by himself. It will be hard moving some of the furniture and appliances alone. He never got back to me with his estimate. So I'm going with HOS." [Turns out Guy 3 just bought two storage units, and is too busy sorting through his new junk, so not available.]

Maybe there's a little Hickpotism going on in this selection. I can imagine the other Guys grousing about Hick giving the job to his son.

Anyhoo... not a paper has been signed to transfer ownership of Cheap House to us, but Hick has already rented the dumpster ($650), scheduled to arrive on Tuesday. And HOS and Buddy were in Cheap House on Friday, pre-junking.

"They wanted to get a head start. So I let them in, and they were breaking up the couches and getting stuff ready to carry out when the dumpster gets there."

"I really hope that house is OURS! You're putting a lot of money into it, and we don't own it any more than when you first looked at it last October!"

"It's ours, Val. The Savings & Loan cain't wait to get rid of it. To get it off their books. The gal told me she's gettin' the paperwork ready. They have to do the Deed of Trust and all that. She said she was gettin' stuff ready so we only have to make one trip to sign."

Uh huh. From the man who just told me a few days ago, "I don't think we'll have to sign anything." I wish Hick was this enthusiastic about Lap House. The one we're actually renovating. Sometime...

Crewcisions, Crewcisions

Hick has been taking bids for the cleanout of Cheap House. As you might imagine, this weighs heavily on Hick's head, because he knows a guy... Hick has guys who do odd work for him. Guys he does favors for, to help them out. Now he must choose among them! 

Guy 1 has been allowed to come out and sort through Hick's junk to sell for scrap. He's one I saw parked in the BARn field, and roaming along Shackytown Boulevard, and called from the front porch, "Hey, what's going on?" He swore Hick had invited him out here. Yet couldn't reach Hick on the phone to prove it. I let him go (heh, heh, as if I could have stopped him), and eventually Hick sent me a text that yes, Guy 1 had such permission. Guy 1 has also been on top of our metal roof, cleaning out gutters, and patching a leak. A risky task, with Hick only holding the ladder, for a paltry sum of $100.

Guy 2 is HOS (Hick's Oldest Son). He has been working some weekends at the annex of Hick's SUS2.5, selling items from that locker for a 40% cut.

Guy 3 is an older man. Hick knows him from the storage lockers. He hasn't done any work for Hick, but is always asking Hick if he has any work available.

Hick asked all the Guys for an estimate. He emphasized that he was renting an industrial dumpster for one week. If the job wasn't completed by the end of that week, Hick would deduct $25 per day from the agreed-upon price of the cleanout. That's the fee the company charges for overdue dumpsters. The Guys can have anything from the contents they want, to keep or sell for scrap.

Hick is now choosing his favorite considering his options.

"I'm not sure. Guy 1 has done jobs for me before. The thing is, he don't always finish them. HOS (Guy 2) has a buddy to help, which would be easier and faster than a single guy. But he ain't the most dependable. Guy 3 always finishes what he starts. But he'd be working alone, and he's older.

The decision is on the horizon...

Hick Has Already Met a Neighbor at Cheap House

Around 12:30 on Wednesday, I got a text from Hick:

"Look what are neighbors has here at Cheap House"

"Dang! They let it run free?"

"He had two of them outside"

"Showing off!"

Here's a close-up, but it's not very clear. I don't know my snakes, but I think it's one of those big yellow/white pythons.

I can't say I'm surprised that the neighbor of a convicted meth-maker is a snake. Or two. Hick said this guy is really nice, and was happy to see someone working on the house.