Happy Father's Day to all you dads out there! And a special shout-out to my very own special daddy. Thanks for making it possible for this blog to exist!
...And for feeding me, raising me, teaching me things, reading me nightly bedtime stories, doing my hair for dance when mom was working, chauffeuring me around everywhere before you helped me buy my first car, pulling me out of sticky situations, loving me, and not killing me when I carved "I hate zuckini" into the kitchen table. I really appreciate that.
I heard people sharing funny stories about their fathers on the radio the other day which I thought might be fun to do on my blog. Let's see what I think the internet can handle...
Recently, my dad and I have been spending way too much time "Cageing" each other. For anyone who has had the good fortune of never being "Cage'd", this involves hiding a creepy photo of Nicolas Cage in places where we know the other will discover it with the hopes of scaring the bejeezus out of the other person. This whole strange situation started when I came across this photo on my desk in my stats class. Evidently, some bored student in the political science class taking place in that classroom before stats decided their time was better spent printing off pictures of Mr. Cage than learning about whatever the government is up to right now. I doubt they'll ever know how they've affected the relationship between my dad and I. So far, I've found him in my granola box and my bed. Dad has come across Nick in his lunch bag and the cookie box. When that got too tame, father dearest attempted to make me prematurely pissed myself when I found this in my toilet. Yes, INSIDE the toilet. Love you too, dad.
But, we've had some good times, my dad and I. I'll always remember the time he offered to let me walk our 85 pound, ADHD Golden Retriever and then proceeded to chuck a snowball ahead of her knowing that she wouldn't be able to resist chasing it. It was a grand ol' time for young Kate getting dragged on my stomach through the icy back alley in my snowsuit. It was even more of a hilarious time for daddy dearest who couldn't stop laughing long enough to rescue me.
Speaking of which, that alley is actually where dad taught me how to ride a bike. Seeing as this was before it had been repaved, you have to give him props for guiding me up and down that stretch of road that resembled foothills more than something you'd like to drive on. I'm pretty sure I owe him any future back surgery he may need after that one.
He's always been in favour of pushing me into a situation and letting me figure out how to sail through it. Literally. When he took me to the hospital for a sprained ankle, he believed it would be a great idea to give my wheelchair a loving shove down the hallway and just let me ride. "Look! No hands!" was not exactly the most ideal phrase I could have heard at that time...
Now, I'm not trying to paint a reckless portrait of the man who has spent these last 19 years loving me unconditionally. These crazy things we've experienced together are some of my very favourite memories. We laugh together because he passed on his wittily warped sense of humour to me. I'll never watch the Norwegian curling team and their funky pants without thinking of the slightly disastrous plaid bell-bottoms dad and I discovered together on a thrift shop outing. And I won't ever be able to watch an Eskies football game without remembering the guy who taught me how to throw a spiral.
My dad is the greatest and I'm more than grateful that he's mine.
I hope all of you are celebrating the man who brought you into this mad, mad world with something special today! Cook him something crazy for breakfast perhaps? (Mom made crêpes for my father today.)
After all, nothing says "I love you" more than a really really ridiculously good grilled cheese breakfast sandwich!
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