Father's Day

Father's Day began last week for me, and ended Sunday evening.

My mother decided to buy my father a gas grill he wanted, and asked if we (her children) might like to contribute to the hefty price tag. We said yes, so she waited about a week to call the store and find it and put one on hold.

I told her that such a large item might not fit into my trusty, small Honda, so she thought we could put it into my brother's Corolla instead. Sure, mom, as soon as you start using your magic shrinking powers. I asked my friend to loan us his small truck, and he reluctantly agreed, and even said that I could drive it. He's pretty particular about his things, so I'm actually quite greatful.

Saturday morning, mom and I traveled to the Sport & Outdoor Store to pick up the grill. Mary started off being bossy and cranky, and the young man went to the back to find our purchase. He asked if we minded black instead of silver trim in an already assembled version of our grill, so Mary said of course not and paid while I went and got the truck.

Then it took about forty-five minutes for them to load the 350 pound grill into the truck and tie it down. Ever try to fit two not-small people and a large propane tank into the cab of a Tacoma? Not fun. Plus the blanket that cushioned the truck came loose, and I felt like a really old woman driving so slow.

After driving the grill almost there, we stopped at my sibs house and asked them to come to the parents' house for the presentation to Dad. Jenny had to get dressed and Brad had to eat breakfast. Mary took the opportunity to sit in the front yard and have a smoke. That took another hour. But, we got it back to the homestead finally.

Dad looked really shocked and pleased. He thanked us all and hugged us. Apparently the good things didn't last long. I called over after we'd left the parents' and been gone for a while. Dad had hooked up the propane to cook a hotdog, and the damn thing didn't work. So, doing the logical thing*, my father took the grill apart to fix it.

Yeah, you read that right, he took it apart. Still couldn't get it to work. Sunday, he and my friend took the grill back in the little truck, and my father spent about an hour yelling at salespeople to take the damn thing back and give him one that worked, which they did. My father can be quite persuasive when he yells.

So yesterday, he put the new one together, and cooked my mom a burger, so all's well, yeah?
Anyway, I've posted an old photo above of my dad holding me right after I was born. I wish I had one that showed his face better, but you get what you get. He's got his tongue sticking out, so maybe that's better anyway, to show his personality.


*Not sure logic applies here, but he says it does, so I must agree, right?