The Day of the Father

My dad rolled up in town for Father's Day, which I thought was nice of him. Of course, it was to go on a golf outing with his prep school buddies tomorrow, but when someone shows up with sheets, 3 work-perfect twinsets and the promise to pay for all food and movies that may be enjoyed that day, to hold the golf thing against him would be ungrateful. But it was an exciting day in the land of Julie-- why, you ask? I shall use an annotated counting system to illustrate.


# of Wedding Showers attended for Victoria: 1
# of Gifts at the Wedding Shower of Victoria: click
# of People who got Choked Up when Dana was toasting Victoria at the begining of the shower: ~8 (including yours truly, but as my dad says, my kidneys are too close to my eyes)

I was about 10 minutes late, but still in time for the "Surprise!" and got to discuss my favorite issue, how much insurance companies really and truly suck, over the lunch. I also got to give Vicky the popcorn popper I had gotten for her which is a real relief to me as I just can't stand buying things for people and not giving it to them right away. My motto: Why wait for the warranty to give out? At least I don't insist that they use it right away (however sorely tempted I am to do so). Also? There was champagne there and I had some. First drink in a month, kids- I was definitely buzzed.

Time my dad got up to get to his flight to Westchester: 5am
Time my dad went to bed last night: 12am
Times my dad yawned before he consented to let me drive my own car back from Connecticut: approx. 20

During the shower, my dad went to hit balls at a driving range (gearing up for the big tournie tomorrow) and by the time he got to the shower, he was all droopy-eyed. Of course that didn't mean that I got to drive right away, it just meant that he let me take over after he started yawning in 10 second intervals. So we drove back to the IBM Learning Center so he could nap. And damn, they should rename that place Julie's Land of Earthly Delights. Hemmed in by thick forrest, 7 or so stone and wood modern Scandanavian architecture guest buildings, pingpong and pool tables everywhere, a walking trail, a gym the size of freakin texas and the best part- seemingly no one around, so when I was walking about with my cell phone I could play my favorite game "Nuclear Disaster Survivor." When Dad informed me that most corporations had places like this for their employees, being a corporate lawyer suddenly seemed a wee bit more palatable. But only for IBM. So on Monday, I'm totally going back to use the gym (then I will be spoiled and I will be forced to go pay for a membership at the NYSC instead of using the dank hellhole in the basement). But on with the story...

# of movies seen today: 1
# of people who annoyed me by talking in the theater: 0 (a banner occasion!)
# of times I tried to explain to my dad who Sacha Baron Cohen is and failed miserably: 3

Madagascar: pretty good. But I really liked the little insider NYC jokes because I got them and so did everyone else in the theater and we all felt self-satisfied and affirmed that we lived near a fantastic city that deserved to be toasted in a movie because it's New York, Dammit. But beyond that, it was still good. And when the hypochrondriacal character mentions wanting to go to Canada for the cheap meds, my dad nudged me, as I too love Canada and the cheapness of its meds. I guess i am just a figure of fun to you well people.

# of times we checked the car because it was in an unsavory part of White Plains: 3
# of times my dad worried that someone would break into my car for my nordstroms bag of twinsets: 3
# of times i rolled my eyes so dramatically that I hurt myself a little: 1

White Plains has very little free parking, and that parking a) in a bad section of town (1 block from a good section) and b) is only free on sundays. But as i have yet to see a grand theft auto case coming out of White Plains in my time spent in court, I was not worried. Dad did not have my faith that all the criminals would be out and about in yonkers, so he was slightly more worried.

# of palm-sizes worth of protein one is supposed to consume in a meal according to my nutritionist whose skin is stretched taught over her protruding bones: 1
# of palm-sizes in the steak that the waiter delivered to my father at dinner: 5
# of palm-sizes worth of meat sitting in my fridge at the moment: 3
# of whiskey sours enjoyed by me at dinner: 1
# of whiskey sours enjoyed by me over lifetime: 1

Then we had dinner and we took turns naming popular musical artists we both would know and we did not like (me: Billy Joel, Elton John (except for rocket man and tiny dancer), Leslie Gore. Dad: Madonna, Prince (except for Kiss), David Bowie (which stung a little. He didn't even like Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders frm Mars. This is the man I call "Pops"?)).


But as tomorrow must be greeted at 7am, I am off to bed. And speaking of my love for canada, here's a site which will tell you where you should travel based on your particular needs. click on the link on the lower right that says "what's your l'atitude?"

mine are:
Russia (HELL no)
Dover, England (been there, done that- a wee bit too sedate)
Wisconsin Dells, Wisconsin (... what? ppl go to wisconsin on vacation?)
Winnipeg, Canada (I do loves me some canada)
Bonaventure Island, Quebec, Canada ( and especially the frenchie bits, tho nova scotia is also a favorite)

My ideal new vacation location is actually Copenhagen or Brussels, and my ideal revacation location is Australia or Paris or the Loire Valley in France. So the website's not that accurate, but I will give it props for the canada recommendation. I do enjoy the polite cleanliness of the far north and all their crazy semi-socialistic, elaborately-costumed-police, scallop-mispronouncing antics.



Wisconsin, though... that's just fucked up.