Saturday, June 19, 2010
That's my Daddy. The two big-haired chicks are my sisters. They all live in North Carolina so they get to hug each other whenever they want. I would guess they find time for it between tanning, whitening their teeth, and teasing their hair.
My Daddy can do anything. There is NOTHING you can ask him to do that he can't figure out, except maybe get his wild-eyed daughter Sher to straighten up and fly right.
That's a puzzle that keeps him up nights.
He can fix cars, and build houses, and ride a bike without hands, and whistle using a blade of grass between his thumbs.
He's funny when he wants to be, and funny sometimes when he doesn't mean to be. The time he "punished" my sister and her boyfriend while they were making out by blasting John Phillip Sousa at ear-splitting, airplane engine levels, was HILARIOUS. He wasn't laughing though.
Come to think of it, I hope it was my sister and her boyfriend. As I get older I find my stories can get all goobered up. For all I know, he blasted me and my boyfriend with God Save the Queen.
Daddy sometimes reads what I write, although it takes him awhile to find it. It might be 2015 before he finds this, but I can guarantee one thing for sure when he does. I'll get an email that says what he always says when he reads something I've written...
"That was sorta funny, but it didn't happen that way. You get carried away."