Move Over Scorsese

It's my dad's birthday today. He is 79. And still rocking the hizzy.

I wish you all could meet my dad. He is awesome and I have yet to meet anyone who has spent any amount of time in conversation with him who was not completely enamored with him. He is one of those people that affects everyone he interacts with in a most beautiful way. It's totally true. There are lots of people I know who didn't have dads around at all growing up, or who had them but had difficult relationships with them. The ones who know my dad often tell me that they think of my dad as their dad, or the best dad figure they ever knew. I dated a guy in high school who was trouble on wheels. My parents always treated him with kindness. My dad would sit on the porch and have long conversations with him sometimes when I was being a slow ass or was late showing up. I never really knew what they talked about. A few years ago, this ex-boyfriend called me to catch up. He asked about my dad, and told me that my family, especially my dad, was the most supportive person he knew of as a kid. And he choked up just remembering it. That made me choke up too. Then we both had to recover from the fact that we were CRYING ON THE PHONE with each other. Yeesh.

I could tell you he is kind, and gentle, and gentlemanly, and thoughtful, and funny, and sweet, and non-judgmental. But if you want to know about his awesomicity, read what I wrote about him here.

I love my dad.

In completely non-gushy, non-dad news, my roof? She is 99% done! Finish! Totalmente kaput! Nordic Boy just has to tape up some seams on the weatherproofing. Or something. This is the biggest thing in my life right now. How sad.

This weekend I went to a party/concert where there was chamber music being played. Like, a live quartet, with a cello and a harpist and everything. Fan-swah, no? I felt very cosmopolitan and also in sheer awe of the gigantic nature of cellos and harps. Those effers are yooge. How are you supposed to go all Pete Townshend with instruments like that? Can you imagine trying to smash one of those suckers? Anyway, while I was there, there were a couple of people who had cameras and who discreetly took photos. Which made me think that I should take a photo too, especially to show you guys so you won't think I am making up going to fancy shindigs like those kids in high school used to do when they would talk about their "girlfriend from Canada." My party was not a fake girlfriend from Canada! I really went! I didn't have my camera with me, but I did have my cell phone. So I took a shitty quality photo with that. And I felt horrible about doing it. Because I was afraid that all the fancy people would think I was the asshole who was messing with their cell phone in the middle of the civilized concert. Like it might have looked like I was texting or something. I wasn't texting! I wouldn't do that! But I fear that I appeared that way. I was That Person. Cell phone person. But at least I got the photo.




Speaking of my cell phone, yesterday I stopped by my neighborhood pizza joint to (duh) get a pizza. As I sat there waiting for it, I futzed around with my phone, sent a couple of texts, looked at the photos I had saved on there. Then, I pressed this mystery button on the phone. I never knew what it was before so I never pressed it in case it was, like, the self destruct button or something. But you know what it was? VIDEO. I can record shit with my phone! I never knew that! So because I didn't know that's what it was doing, I recorded a random few seconds of the pizza joint floor, the window, and part of my skirt. And when I played it back later, it was disturbing. Because of the sound. Listen to this and tell me that this doesn't sound like I am in hell. I swear there are demons or banshees in the background.



Creepy, right?

I'm out,
Librarian Girl