Years ago I learned to write down conversations I had with my father immediately after, or even during our chats, because not to do so meant thinking back later and wondering if I’d just hallucinated the entire thing.
Texting gave me proof that he’d said things, and also that we’re both a little off, but at least I can blame genetics.
~ Me: Look, Dad. Cousin Mally sent this picture of your grandmother on a camel! Shockingly, there are no pictures of me on a camel. It's hard to believe we're even related.
~ Dad: Well, I don't have any pictures of you at all.
~ Me: What are you talking about?
~ Dad: It's true. Just when you were at the age when we needed pictures of you, you refused to let us take them.
~ Me: You're being serious.
~ Dad: It's true! You just refused. Just to be difficult.
~ Me: Dad, I was four. Besides, why is it that when I don't like something you refer to it as "being difficult" instead of just acknowledging I don't like something?
~ Dad: Because you make things difficult with what you don't like.
~ Me: I... what?
~ Dad: Someday you'll have grandchildren you know. And they'll never get to see a picture of you on a camel because you were difficult.
~ Me: Hey dad. That was pretty funny.
~ Dad: What was?
~ Me: When I texted you about signing your name on texts.
~ Dad: I was going to write back telling you to start at the top next time when you read things. It would be less confusing for you.
Actual point: me
Judgment point: Dad
~ Dad: You know, I started as an agnostic, then I was an atheist, and then I ended up a cynic.
~ Me: I started out a cynic.
~ Dad: Yes, you did.
…..
~ Me: Well you were always slow to catch on to things.
~ Dad: Yes. I always was.
~ Me: It’s ok. You have other redeeming qualities.
Morning Teaistisms
This blasted cold will not leave. To rub it in, the wind has been biting and so strong that things have been blowing off the trees and the porches.
Mount Olympus flower tea shouldn’t be good, if you go by the description, but it really is. They call it “herbaceous,” which usually translates to “disgusting” when it comes to tea, but this one isn’t. My brain wants it to smell like oregano— because Greek?— but sage is more the herb it resembles, if it resembles one at all.
Mostly it’s gentle and leafy, sort of like a mint tea but not mint, only slightly floral, and soothing in the gale.
I absolutely love conversations with your Dad, Marjie! You must share more of them!!!
You and your dad are comedy gold!