So anyway...Well, today is one of those holiday-thingys. It's Father's Day. And I have the same feelings about today as I do about Mother's Day. But that's beside the point.
Because of the day being forced to celebrate, we went to hang out for the afternoon at my grandmother's place to eat & kick back for & with my dad & my hubby.
Before I get to what I want to get into, much like my point about mother's on Mother's Day...the dad's tend to want something grilled/barbequed to enjoy. That generally means the dads are the ones to have to do it. Even though not all dads want or eat that food, nor do all dads grill...it is a general consensus. Trust me...it's very true in these parts for sure. So the dads end up cooking on "their day." Go figure. (refer to my Mom's Day post)
What I really want to talk about on this Father's Day is....me. I wish I were kidding, but I'm not. Not out of ego, I promise...more about why I am the way I am. You'll see where some of the blame lies.
My brain sometimes works differently than others. It just does. I can't always explain it, but it happens. I get in a weird zone & can't stop it. It's like one of those wind up toys that just keeps going until things wind down. No stopping it until then. Yep...that's what happens to me & my brain.
One of my dad's phases he's gone thru is word-working. We kind of joked that he needed to make Teen Boy a loft bed since we have been on the look out for a decent one for him. Eventually that joke became reality & my dad is on the last few stages of making Teen Boy's loft bed! WOOT! But my dad tries to go into detail with me that I don't care to hear. Probably because I'm not into the wood-working thing. And we have been in no hurry, so we haven't been pushing it...it's just whenever it gets done. Somewhere in there, my dad thinks we need to know every step. Just tell us what is needed from our part & when it's done. But my dad can't always help himself either.
Well, now that the bed is close to done, my dad was trying to bring up that I needed to bring hubby's truck out for hauling & blah-blah-blah. I told him to talk to hubby about the truck since I won't drive it. My dad thinks I am being ridiculous...but I'm not kidding. So, as he's trying to give me more details about this bed...it happened...my brain kicked into high gear...
I pretended I was driving a really loud truck. I was even making the sounds. I informed my dad that I couldn't hear him over my loud pretend truck. He rolled his eyes. Eventually, I stopped my truck to hear my dad, but as he was talking, I realized I couldn't hear him because my window was up. So I had to roll down my pretend manual window so I could hear him. I think he about gave up on me.
He had the gall to basically ask who's fault it was I was like this. I pointed directly to him, started up my loud pretend truck, and broke into a verse of a song that he made me listen to many years ago...
"Take me for ride in your Mack truck.
Take me for a ride in your truck, Mack.
Take me for a ride; take me for a ride;
Take me for a ride in your Mack truck,
...Mack."
All he could do was laugh. He, then knew that this particular deal was his doing. He made us listen to a lot of Peter, Paul & Mary. So "Car, Car" was the appropriate song to break into to prove it.
So I can also blame him, and I do, for Star Trek imbedded into my DNA. Along with Star Wars & much more Sci-Fi. And an array of Tom Lehrer songs.
As you can tell, I can totally blame my father-figure dude for my warped-drive sense of humor. Well, my mom's side, too...but it's so much more fitting to blame my dad for today. It's the gift that keeps on giving...
And this is what my loving hubby has to put up with. Bless his heart, right? I know...
Stay tuned...and...live long and prosper. (thanks, Dad)
God Bless, AM~Erica
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