Since my father has selfishly decided to stay ill and is currently awaiting surgery of the heart valve replacement variety in the hospital - a place of inexplicable and odd smells - I've been left to pick up his blogging slack. So I think it a fitting homage to his Thought Sanctuary(TM) to write about myself.
Anyway, that's what he gets for giving me his password.
My dad and I live about two hours apart. My parents have been divorced since I was a toddler and the Mickey Mouse pancake weekends were all I knew of him for years. Then, as we (my sister and I) got older, the weekends began to fill themselves less with animal-shaped breakfasts foods and more magic tricks, LEGO Alpine Swiss villages, UFO launches, historically inaccurate bedtime stories, lava tubing, inappropriate-for-my-age films, banjo sing-alongs, shot/handgun marksmanship lessons, underage bartending, folk music concerts, power tools and the occasional peace march.
With the exception of the last item, it's been pretty damn awesome to have him be a part of my life for the last 31 (ugh) years. Like...milk-out-of-your-nose-from-laughing awesome. To the point where Nancy had to make a rule that he can't talk if someone's drinking. Because it hurts. There are some canals where milk does not belong.
The point is, I absolutely refuse to even acknowledge the idea that this surgery will be anything but a wild success and neither should you. The first 31 years were grand, but sometime in the next 31 - I'm hoping to get his teriyaki burger recipe.
So raise a glass, when you next imbibe, and wish Dad the best luck science can determine the outcome of. Especially since he's not getting another cosmo for at least two months.