Daddy O.

My dad is a gifted musician, completely self taught.  The sort of gifted that you wish even a bit had trickled down to you, but aside from being able to sing as a child and those few years of piano, not a lick has stuck.  He's already started Finn on the drums... I'm guessing it's a bit of hoping his musically gifted genes have come out somewhere and a bit of choosing the most loud obnoxious instrument to torture me.

At 53, he has a mohawk.  Not in an ironic sort of way, in a just because he likes it & marches to the beat of another drummer sort of way.  You can poke fun and he still doesn't care, he loves that mohawk.

My dad, he is the sort of man who gives days of incredibly hard labor to do something nice for us when we decide to start new 'projects' like kitchen remodels or bathroom remodels or when our basement floods or when you decide to secretly redo your bedroom while your husband is out of town.   

We are insanely competitive in the cooking & baking department.  That guy up there?  He can decorate a cake like you would not believe.  He also thinks he makes the best chocolate chip cookies.  He is delusional.  We've had chocolate pie baking contests, cake baking contests, and I'm pretty sure there was a meatloaf incident I don't want to talk about.  We've already decided to have another contest later this summer, we just haven't decided what the medium will be yet.

My dad?  He gave me the best piece of advice before he gave his blessing for Dave to ask me to marry him...

The person you marry is the person he is going to be in ten or twenty years.  You better like who he is as a person and make sure you can deal with the stuff that drives you crazy because he isn't going to change.  Don't expect him to.

I'm pretty sure that he's proud of the choice I've made.  I'm also pretty sure that he loves Dave more than he loves me.  That's neither here nor there.  Ahem.

So Daddy O, happiest Father's Day to you.  I love you.