Dear Old Dad
I did a variety of Dad-like things today: I mowed the lawn, washed the car, drank a Rolling Rock, and tonight I’m barbecuing. All I need is a pair of madras shorts and a “Kiss the Chef” apron covering up my beer gut to complete the picture.
For the most part, I don’t mind these fatherly chores; mowing the lawn is a necessary evil, I suppose, and since Jen and I are going to take a little road trip tomorrow, I thought it prudent to clean out the car sufficiently that there is room to sit in the passenger seat. The beer-drinking responsibility I dispatched without complaint and I can do the barbecue piece with relative ease on our itty-bitty propane-powered Weber.
I suppose I could gripe a bit about the car-washing, but as a matter of fact, it was sort of fun. Mimi and I went to the nearby do-it-yourself place and she got to use the pressure washer, the force of which, when on high, was nearly enough to knock her down. And then she was an animal with the giant shop-vac; using two cycles worth of quarters to suck up months of crushed pretzels, corn chips, and Cheetohs from the back seat.
My general attitude to these sorts of activities is no doubt informed by my own dad’s. He cut the lawn fairly begrudgingly, usually enlisted his kids, or went to the local drive-through to wash the car, and barbecued with no more frequency than I do. (I think he had some Madras plaid shorts; I’m sure he never had a “Kiss the Chef” apron, though.)
And I’m probably not all that typical; I’ll bet not too many lawn-mowing, car-washing, beer-drinking fathers in America began their day with a two-hour Ashtanga yoga class.
It’ll be interesting, therefore, to see what Mimi considers typically dad-like activities for a Saturday when she’s all grown up: sitting in padmasana, working on a bike, writing for the blog?
For the most part, I don’t mind these fatherly chores; mowing the lawn is a necessary evil, I suppose, and since Jen and I are going to take a little road trip tomorrow, I thought it prudent to clean out the car sufficiently that there is room to sit in the passenger seat. The beer-drinking responsibility I dispatched without complaint and I can do the barbecue piece with relative ease on our itty-bitty propane-powered Weber.
I suppose I could gripe a bit about the car-washing, but as a matter of fact, it was sort of fun. Mimi and I went to the nearby do-it-yourself place and she got to use the pressure washer, the force of which, when on high, was nearly enough to knock her down. And then she was an animal with the giant shop-vac; using two cycles worth of quarters to suck up months of crushed pretzels, corn chips, and Cheetohs from the back seat.
My general attitude to these sorts of activities is no doubt informed by my own dad’s. He cut the lawn fairly begrudgingly, usually enlisted his kids, or went to the local drive-through to wash the car, and barbecued with no more frequency than I do. (I think he had some Madras plaid shorts; I’m sure he never had a “Kiss the Chef” apron, though.)
And I’m probably not all that typical; I’ll bet not too many lawn-mowing, car-washing, beer-drinking fathers in America began their day with a two-hour Ashtanga yoga class.
It’ll be interesting, therefore, to see what Mimi considers typically dad-like activities for a Saturday when she’s all grown up: sitting in padmasana, working on a bike, writing for the blog?
posted by Professor Dave at 6:17 PM
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