Tuesday, February 23, 2010


So I told you all a little while ago in my "Noon" post that my dad often makes me grilled cheese and tomato soup. Well once in a blue moon I cook for him.

Mom is at her Spanish class this evening, so Dad and I are bach-in' it. My dad is a lot like me, so if you're familiar with my eating and cooking patterns, let's cut to the chase and just say life patterns, you can imagine that when Dad and I are left to our own scheduling, dinner doesn't exactly happen in a normal manner. If at all.

About an hour ago I turned off the TV, curled my hair (?), then went upstairs to pet the cat, and hence started chatting with Dad at his computer nearby. After our discussion of stamps, license plates, "precision driving," cleanliness, cans of air (you know, those aerosol cans that help clean keyboards), I said, "Well Dad, I've had Ro-tel dip and beer so far for dinner, how 'bout you?" He informed me he'd had some Wint-o-green lifesavers.

So I exited to the kitchen and poured myself a glass of milk, and asked Dad if he wanted me to make him some macaroni and cheese with tuna. His ears perked up and he suggested that instead of tuna I add tiny smoked sausages to the macaroni. I don't know about the rest of you, but in my home we call this dish "Smokey mac." Smokey mac is my and Riley's personal favorite summer dish. So I made some smokey macs for Dad, ate a banana myself (I love the smokey mac, but after all the Ro-tel I was a little cheesed out), and retreated to the basement, where I sit now typing for you.

A few minutes ago I heard Dad descend from his office to the kitchen. And then I heard him singing, to the tune of "M-I-C K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E:"



Smokey mac for me.

Just for me. Just for me..."

The man turned 61 this week. And you wonder why people are surprised at his age.

Dad also sang to the same jingle tune when we were children. We have a home video in which Dad was filming some familial pumpkin carving. At one point he zoomed the camera into Whiskers, our beloved cat at the time. Innocent Whiskers, sitting quietly; you could pick this cat upside down and she would purr. And Dad started singing behind the camera, "S-T-U P-I-D Stupid is her name. She's a cat. A stupid cat. A very stupid cat is what we see!"


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