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June 19, 2005

Happy Father's Day!


This is my favorite picture of me and my dad.

Of course, the photos from graduation and birthdays and spontaneous summer moments rank high on the list, but in this snapshot I am happy and free and knee-high to a grasshopper, and with one big hug I am saying to the whole world this is MY DADDY and I LOVE HIM YA'LL! Until the day I draw my last breath, I will be the little girl you see in that photograph, so proud and happy that this is my dad.

Oh, yes, I am a daddy's girl. To me, my dad is all the good parts of life: honest, and strong, and dedicated and funny. And he is the center of our entire family -- a big far-flung group of colorful and hard-headed Southerners. My father is the one everyone comes to for advice, for honesty, for help, because he is the one that holds us all together.

My dad can cook like no other human on the planet, he is a gourmet in the kitchen. He is also, much to his dismay, a short-order cook for the family since I don't eat eggs, Eric doesn't eat onions or mushrooms, and Guy won't eat anything yellow (or he didn't when we were kids, that may have changed now that Guy's little boy is a picky eater. Ha! revenge!) But you know, my dad has never once complained about his nutty kids who all have to get three separate meals. He just thinks we're a bunch of characters.

His sense of humor sneaks up on you. I became a vegetarian in college, because ya'll know, that's what you do in college, and one day out of the blue he asked me, "Well, do you eat meat at school and then just come home being vegetarian to torture me?" And he saw the look on my face, and then we both laughed in the kitchen. My family is crazy. We know it. We love it.

My dad understands me, and is kind to me, and surprises me and makes me laugh and he is the only person in my life who has known me since the day I was born and cared for me every day of that time.

When my husband moved out, my dad and mom and brother got on a plane and flew to California to spend Thanksgiving with me. And my father, who is not a fan of cats, spent almost a week at my condo with FOUR furballs, who apparently never got the memo that he's not a cat person. Oh no. THEY LOVED MY DAD. Sobakowa? Who is off writing her manifesto? LOVED my dad, and would sit at his feet each day. Oh yes. And because my father loves me, he just looked at my cats and sighed. His grandcats.

Also, um, dad? Remember that time I sneaked the guy with the blue hair and earring up to my room? I'm sorry about that. And the time I came home late and maybe slightly intoxicated and read song lyrics to you from The Smiths? yeah, BOY AM I SORRY about that one. And also, that time I got the mini-mohawk on the side of my head? Well, I still think I was pretty cool, but I'm sorry you about had a heart attack. I really am! But come on, you thought I was a little bit cool, right?

Oh, Dad. Thank you for always being my one best thing in life. I hope I can make you proud and maybe cut down on some of the swear words on this website. You're my favorite, my inspiration, the only person I know who is always there for me and always has been. I love you! More than anything.

And so do your grandcats!

Posted by laurie at June 19, 2005 1:33 PM