Lucky
I'm lucky. My father is:
- alive and kicking
- still married to my mom
- sane
- pleasant
- funny
- aware of bears when going for walks
On my refrigerator is really super-contrasty color photograph that I printed in my color photography class in college (or "at university"). It's of my father and his shiny black hair and big clunky black frame glasses (quite the pre-hipster) with a tiny sleeping baby on his chest. That would be me.
If you look closely, you can tell I am making wise cracks about something. Probably the food.
If I was super internet savvy, I would now post a photo of the photo that is on my refrigerator. But I don't have one and I'm not at home, so either I'll do it tonight and post it (which will be kind of bloggy lame because I am spending all this time talking about it) or not do it all (which will be kind of anti-bloggy (and will be cooler (in my mind))).
True Story
My father was once saved from a bunch of exotic (and therefore deadly) snakes by his mother who was wielding a hoe.
Also he has numerous hilarious stories about the time he served (with his brother) in the military.
Go To
Lastly, as a child, my brother and I both knew that my father was the go-to guy for when we woke up sick. My mother sleeps like a crazy sleeping log. Or rock. Or whatever it is that sleeps and doesn't wake up when small nauseous children are nearby. My father, on the other hand (and on the other side of the bed (the far side actually (sometimes problematic))) is a very light sleeper which was ideal for small nauseous children. Although as a teenager, his light sleeping was not as welcomed.
