My Dad Could Kick Your Dad's Ass!!

I went home again for a long weekend; it was great and I am pleased that I did. But what is totally crunk about life (among many other things) is how there will be a piercingly hollow void of social possibilities for 93% of my life, and then when one invitation is bestowed, 7 or 12 that are happening simultaneously, tend to follow. Is there a Patron Saint of Not booking my social opportunities all at the same fucking time that I can pray to? What didn't I do, you ask? Well, I didn't go camping with the boy, I told you I had my reasons. I didn't join other Red Cross volunteers in the Rhododendron Parade. I didn't spend Stef's child-free day with her. Nor did I attend Mira's birthday afternoon activities. And, I wasn't here when Corine finally called. Sigh.

I got to Crescent City too late to attend the all day workshop I was hoping to participate in, so I just grabbed Jere and attempted a river trip. It was windy and visiting over the raging rapids was not serene. My parents where out of town, and you would think that makes for a ripe moment to harvest the wine collection my dad has growing in his industrial sized garage. But I have so much reverence for my dad, and I don't know enough about which Australian wine is more expendable than which Spanish wine, so I end up drinking really shitty wine in Crescent. Maybe that is in keeping with the endearing name that local youth have used in reference to my hometown for decades, Crusty Shitty. I did a lot of bonding with Jere and even got some in with Lisa. Eventually I spent time with a few members of the fam. I did make it to the river on a day that was nice enough to make my skin hurt, so that's good. I won't go on and on about raiding every container that the 'rents had coins in, for an oil change and a kona shake. Nor will I babble about the stories of atrocious violence that I became privy to in Denny's. Instead I want to move on to linking you to my kick ass dad (who is in fact wearing a Swatch in the photo, you are correct). And who really could kick ass, because he's 6'6" and has lots of chain saws. I will elaborate on the radness of my dad another time. For now, look at some of the projects that are lucky enough to have been constructed from his salvaged, old growth redwood. My dad is so much cooler than a whole, new truck lot, full of dads.