I love my dad.
He makes me laugh without even knowing it sometimes.
I bet you that if I spent more time with him I could probably write a whole blog just about the funny things he does.
The other day I was eating at the kitchen table before work, and my dad passes through the kitchen and heads to the garage (his "man" place), and then stops and looks around at the messy counters. "Is she still on strike? She's been on strike for weeks and I don't think she's ever going to get off it." I laugh, "who, mom?" "Yeah, I think she's joining the Union!" Then his serious face curves into a smile, and begins to laugh.
My dad and his history jokes... That one wasn't even politically correct. haha.
Of course, my mother is most definitely not on strike regarding keeping the kitchen clean, it's just my father's humor to say so.
In all honesty, the kitchen's really my job.
I just have been busy lately with work and my night class... Not that that is an excuse.
Anyway, I digress.
About a month ago we installed a brand new garage door, one which has a pretty little window all along the top of it. This is very exciting for my dad, considering we've had a broken electric one for several years that only opened up half way (by hand), and if it did open up all the way it would produce a thunderous sound and a form a gigantic dent that could only be relieved by a strong man tugging downward on the bottom of the door (AKA my dad). Anyway. So now that we have this brand new garage door, and he has been super excited about the window at the top.
One day I come out into the garage to see him standing in the dark on a plastic chair and peering out into the neighborhood. "Dad, what are you doing?" I ask. "I'm spying! Anita, this is so neat! Watch, I can see all down the street both ways and I don't even have to turn my head!" His stiff body, with his arms at his sides, begins to pivot from side to side while looking out the window and making this foghorn sound. "see?"
Then he starts to laugh at his own joke.
I said all that to say this: (Back to the day when he announces that my mother is on a kitchen-cleaning strike)
After I eat, I decide to go out into the garage to see what my father is doing this time. & Not surprisingly, I see him elevated on the same black plastic chair with no shirt peering out through the little window again. "I've joined the neighborhood watch, and now it's my turn." He says, binoculars in hand.
We have no neighborhood watch. If we do, he's the only one watching. Through that little window at the top of the garage door.
"Dad you're crazy."
I laugh, close the door and go back to eating.
When it's time for me to go to work, I go out to my car, and as I do, I pass the garage door and look up at the window to see that he's still standing up there. & He's frantically waving to me.
I can't help but smile.
My dad is a wierdo.
As my little brother gets older, I am seeing more and more of my dad in him. Mostly in attitude, and the way that he handles situations. Especially the stressful ones. I find it amusing, personally. My dad has always been the type to get angry and frowny when he's (overly) worried about something, which happens very easily if it concerns his family or our pets.
Yesterday our dog Suzy got a foxtail stuck in her nose, and she was sneezing over and over again.
If you know anything about foxtails, they can do serious damage if they get in an animals eyes, nose, ears, or even if they get swallowed. (Our old dog became deaf because one got into his eardrum).
So Suzy is sneezing and sneezing, and my brother is getting (overly) worried. Then I hear my dad come running out of his room and down the hallway (he was sleeping), "What's wrong?" he asks, frantically. My brother says all sorrowful, "Suzy has a foxtail in her nose." "Aww sheeze!" My dad exclaims angrily and stomps into his garage. My mom asks if I can take her to the vet, but I have to go to work, so I go into the garage to see exactly what I expected: My sad sitting in his chair, in the semi-dark, face all mad and frowny. "Dad, I can't take Suzy because I have to go to work. Can you take her?" -silence- "Okay.." I say as I shut the door.
Best to leave the angry alone.
I walk back through the kitchen and into the living room, where I see my brother, holding the chronically sneezing Suzy, face all mad and frowny. Just like dad. "This is just great," he says, "now she's going to die just because of those stupid foxtails!"
After a while, Suzy gets the foxtail out on her own, and is standing in the middle of the living room looking at us like nothing happened. "You think she got it?" Dad asks my mom. "Yeah, I think she did."
Then the frowny face goes away, and he starts talking to Suzy in a silly semi-high pitched voice as he shakes his finger at her, "You caused all of that because you don't listen to me when I tell you to get out of the foxtails SuSu! (her nickname) You keep trying to go after that rat, and you just don't listen to me. You see? Now look at what you've done. Got us all worried and everything. You leave that rat alone!"
Suzy stares blankly at my dad and blinks a few times.
We all laugh. Even though my father gets mad and frowny so easliy, he can get out of it fairly easily too.
I just hope my little brother develops that part of the personality as well. :P
Some of my favorite memories involve the special little times with my dad. I never really got to see him much because he worked the night shift at the factory, so whenever I did spend time with him I enjoyed every moment of it. I think we both did.
It was so exciting when my dad would be getting ready to go to the store or gas station and ask, "Nita, do you want to go with me?" I would of course accept, and sprint to my bedroom to get my shoes. On the drive there we would talk and laugh about things, or we would just enjoy listening to christian music on the radio and talk about how great or beautiful a particular song is. My dad and I always have had the same taste in music, so it's something that really brings us together. I love that.
When we would arrive at the store a quick five minutes later, he would always offer to buy me a candy.
Growing up, my parents never had enough money to always buy EVERYTHING that we needed, but somehow, my dad always had the money to buy me a candy. As a kid I remember wondering if he had some kind of magical wallet or secret bank account or something, that would always produce the funds to buy his kids a sweet treat.
Now I know that he just can't resist a cute face, no matter what his finances were.
Even now I get excited if he invites me to go to the store with him. I love spending that time together during that short car ride to the store, mostly because it's a very rare and special "us" time.
And yes, he still offers to buy me a candy.
I love my dad.
He knows how to make you feel special even though he doesn't know it.