Thank you everyone for reading and sharing last week!! It still blows my mind that anyone at all reads my ramblings that, let’s be clear, nobody has asked for. Please keep sharing the site with your friends and family that you think will enjoy it! It is also pretty clear that you all love my dad stories. I wish I was making them up, but I don't have that much of an imagination.
I am currently sitting in my living room as I write this, with a glass of wine (Bread and Butter.... if you have not tried it, what the hell are you doing with your life??) and pretending I am in a remote cabin far from civilization. Just me, Scott and the animals. Oh, and wine. Lots of wine.
I checked in with mom and dad a few days ago and, unsurprisingly, dad is still missing half his big toe. The half that is left looks angry and not unlike it wants revenge.
But dad still insists that it doesn’t hurt and that he didn’t feel a thing when I accidentally amputated half his toe. *cough* Liar. But that is what makes him such a great dad. We are ride or die.
We have gotten ourselves into a few spots of trouble over the years. Completely unintentional of course. Trouble just seems to like to follow us around. And the worst part is, collectively, we do not have a good poker face. Whenever we have done something a little suspect, we immediately look like children trying to hide the fact they ripped open a bag of flour in the pantry to make snow angels.
Pre-COVID we always spent New Years Eve at the B's, my mom and dad's friend's place. Chinese food, beer and a room full of wonderful people. It doesn't get much better. But one year was even more special, because the kitchen at the farm had been renovated and New Years was the christening party. New appliances, a gorgeous fireplace, a massive island with comfy leather stools. Entering their home was now like stepping into a magazine.
Dad, never wanting to get in anyone's way or take a seat from someone who may need it, situated himself near the stove against the counter. I, on the other hand, secured some prime real estate for myself at the island on a stool for dinner.
A faint smell began to engulf my senses, but I chalked it up to the fresh paint and the cumulative heat from the crowd and food in the kitchen. I was in the middle of my second helping of lo mien when my gaze shifted to dad and his eyes caught mine.
I knew the look immediately. We had a situation. I figured it couldn't have been too bad, as he hadn't really left my sight all evening. I made my way over to him and took a spot at his side, flinching when my hand grazed the stove top that was hotter than I was expecting. We had gotten take out, so it caught me off guard that the cook top was hot.
Me: What's up?
Dad: I... I don't know what happened.
Me: What is that smell?
Dad: Wh- Why would any one put a plastic tray there? This is all your mother's fault.
Me: What tra- Seriously..... it smells toxic over here.
Dad shifted his weight and slid out of the way, revealing a fruit tray set off to the side of the stove, with streams of smoke floating up from the bottom and around the sides.
Me: Did you - did you light the pineapple on fire?
Dad then moved the tea towel that was covering the front burner, to reveal a puddle of melted plastic over the brand new glass cook top.
Me: Oh shit.
Dad: It won't come off! Dirrr-ty bastard. I was leaning against the stove.... I heard some beeps but I just thought it was nothing.
Me: Nothing? You thought it was nothing?
Me:mGet a knife, maybe we can scrape it off?
Dad pulled silverware out of his back pocket (yes.... you should always frisk my dad before he leaves your house following a meal. He has a habit of absent mindedly pocketing his napkin, knife and fork in his back pocket opposite his wallet).
Dad got to work as I provided cover.
Me: Hey, how ya doing? Nice to see ya. Cute skirt! *whispers* Is it working?
Dad: No... what if I turned the burner back on and got it hot again?
Me: Brilliant! Just press the-
Mom: What are you two doing?
Dad and I looked at each other and then back down at the burner.
We were caught, but neither of us could muster an explanation. Instead we slid out of the way to reveal a mess of melted plastic surrounded by scratched glass, as a crowd began to gather and giggle.
All I can say is, it's a good thing that the B's have a sense of humour.
And this is why Scott says, you can't take us anywhere.