I was having one of those weeks and I went out to see my dad one morning so he could help me feel better. Now my dad is not like your dad, he’s not a slumlord or a gynecologist or the captain of a ghost ship. My dad has a ‘retirement job’, as in he retired from a job he hated and decided the one thing he wanted to do more than anything was to fly helicopters again.
And you should always do in retirement the thing you love the most! Luckily for my dad, his retirement activity comes with a paycheck as opposed to the whole “villa in tuscany” thing which has the opposite effect.
My dad flies medivac helicopters in town. If you are in a terrible car accident in the middle of nowhere or if you have a strange 14 syllable disease at a country hospital or if you are a teeny tiny baby in need of super special care they’re gonna chopper in help and chances are, my dad will be at the controls and you are in safe hands.
This is his little LifeLink copter. It’s very small, but pretty fast. It’s so small that the patient’s feet sit next to my dad as he flies. (that’s Mike putting new locks on the doors so no one steal the packs of tubes or vials of precious liquids)

This is my dad at the rear of the copter helping them get it attached to the tractor thing that pulls it into the hangar.

My morning started out so crappily and within an hour my dad made it better and we were laughing. I met his coworkers and I could tell they really liked and respected him. I think there is little that a daughter can see that compares to seeing her dad being liked and respected as a genuinely good guy.

You know you are a total nerd when…
David and I finally went to go see Wordplay tonight, you know the movie about the crossword puzzle enthusiasts. Towards the end of the movie Neal Conan came on. You are a total nerd when you see Neal Conan and you get all excited because you listen to him on “Talk of the Nation” every single day!!!!! Oh man, it’s a good thing I already ensared David, because at this point i’m oozing so much nerd stink it is possible I could never get laid again.
In other not so interesting news…
This past weekend was damned near perfect and there was not much of note to report on, we watched crickets breed, there was a romantic picnic by the lake, Jessi and Ahmed had a lovely housewarming party. It was good.
I’m doing crocheted ‘shop models’ for the Clickety Sticks Yarn Shop. Shop models are the sweaters and purses and whatnots that you see hanging in the yarn stores. Usually you see something and say “I WANT TO MAKE THAT!!!” and they sell you the pattern and the yarn. They’re doing that with one of my purses right now (so they’re selling my original pattern. woo) and hopefully I’ll get the damned messenger bag pattern together for them and they can sell that as well. Right now, however, I am making patterns that they give me, not my originals, because they need more crocheted clothing and I just don’t know enough to make my own clothes patterns yet. The goal is to start to attract more crocheters. People will come in and say “I WANT TO MAKE THAT!!!” and then will have to “I don’t know how crochet” and the store people will say “come to our class”. The yarn store will make money, the customer will learn a valuable skill, my work will be on display and I will get paid in yarn. Everyone wins.
Also, where do you get those little tags you can put into your handmade crochet items that say “lovingly made for you by…”? or whatever the hell they say?
Yeah, so I need to get started on my shop model and stop this rambly random post of pointlessness.

So, when you’re a girl and you’re dating a girl and you live with the girl there’s a certain level of familiarity that you take for granted. Panties, fingernail polish, boobs, tampons, bras, hairless chests, shaved legs. You don’t notice these things so much because you have them. They are familiar.
When you find yourself living with a boy and previously you’d spent the entirety of your adult life living with a girl, you have these unsettling moments of realization.
There are boxer shorts, hairy chests, stubbly faces, unintentional division of work by gender (he mows the lawn, I occasionally do the dishes), testicles, tube socks, deodorants with names like “endurance” and “sport” as opposed to “spring” and “rain”.
I was sitting there the other day minding my own business when he walked by in his boxers and I was so struck by the moment. I don’t know that I can describe it fully, but I am still, almost 2 years later, fascinated as all hell by the utter Man-ness of him. He has testicles! I mean lord knows I’ve seen them before but I’m just so charmed that I actually live with them! And I live with boxer shorts and deodorant that can “Endure” and stubble.
You’d think i’d get over it by now, that this would be old news. Maybe I need to take another zoloft!