Books on tape are addicting.
I just walked out to the garage to look for where my dad went, and I found him sitting in his car, in the dark, listening to the last few chapters of his book.
My father the great
For today’s substitute teaching gig my dad taught middle schoolers how to perfect their triple-axels out on the rollerskating rink.
I managed to get some live coverage of Dad to post on my blog. Apparently he got dressed up in one of his fancy outfits to wow the kiddos!
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My dad’s new pet
Backstory: My dad would not let me get a puppy when I desperately wanted one in fourth grade. (Not that I’m still bitter or anything.) He is, however, very entertained by bugs, even when they’re not living in the out of doors where they’re technically supposed to be. Instead, he and his former coworker Casey would set up ant circuses at the office, enticing these and other little critters out of the walls with sticky treats and salty snacks. Having recently changed offices, and with Casey long gone, Dad was in need of some new company. Hence the following e-mail:
Yesterday, in an email correspondence with Casey, we decideded that with no ground squirrels to feed and watch play tag, and no ants to entertain, that I needed to get another praying mantis. Then, this morning, there was one just inches from the door handle at Microgram’s back door where I enter.
He’s a juvenile… about 2 1/2 inches long… very green. He’s missing most of his right antennae, but has all 4 legs and both arms. No sign of wings yet… probably a couple of molts to go. The only problem at the moment is I am cricketless and it’s raining outside. He keeps looking at me wondering when I’ll be serving snacks. Oh, well. Things are looking up in our new digs. I have two desk stations back-to-back separated by a 4 foot high divider. The divider is easy to climb, and Joe likes sitting at the top of it and looking around. He also has been studying his reflection in the chrome frame on which he is now perched. Now, at least, I’m not the only one here in the quiet morning hours.
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Nicknames
Nicknames are really quite wonderful. They represent a closeness between two (or more) people, a special way of greeting that goes beyond the formality of a person’s actual name.
For example, I call my dad “Fred.”
He calls me “Muffinhead.”
Still, you have to be careful that the moniker that you bestow does not have a double meaning. If it does, regardless of your sincere intentions, other people are going to think you’re an ass.
This is why one of my good friends who’s planning on referring to his future wife as “Muffintop” should not.
Not familiar with that term? Well, in many circles, that seemingly innocent epithet refers to the layer of fat that rolls over a person’s jeans … not nearly as endearing as it sounds.