A New Post

I've neglected my poor blog. My apologies to my loyal fans...er, uhm...readers. Life, as it seems, is fairly boring and uneventful. Not that I'm complaining. No, not at all. No news is good news, right?

My dad is 49 today. And, now that I'm 28, 49 doesn't seem as old as it used to. My dad is pretty awesome. I am like him in more ways than I care to admit. Yes, Aunt Nell & Aunt Nomie are reading this and thinking, "yeah, she's kinda got that 'my way or no way' attitude, and it doesn't really bother her to wash her hands of something and never look back. but she's good to those that mean the most to her. just like her daddy." I have enough of my mom in me to make me a little sweeter and a little more calm than my dad. This is a good thing, I've learned. He's so freaking stubborn and hard and is the very image of a boss.

My dad has worked my entire life, as hard as one man can work. And I've always had everything I could ever want and more than I ever needed. Because he's a provider. Not to downplay paperwork or office environments at all, but the work that he's done has nothing to do with sitting down. He owns a logging company in South Arkansas, and before forestry was his full time job, he was a foreman at International Paper in Pine Bluff...welding and sweating and stinking (if you've ever smelled the stink that is a paper mill, then you understand).

He escapes by turkey hunting, going on a few deer hunts and even an occasional fishing trip. He gives my mom really cool gifts, takes my brother on really great hunting trips across the South and is a pillar in their Church. He helped me with my trig homework in 11th grade, and helped me gather different kinds of leaves for my 5th grade science project. He used to take me swimming on vacation because mom & Jeremy wanted to sit in the hot tub, and the two of us didn't care a thing for it.

He used to motocross when he was younger. And then right after I arrived, he traded in his Yamaha for a teeny one that I could ride. It was yellow and fast and fun and had training wheels on it that he made for me. His trophies were taller than me. But, I was 3 and trophies were tall back then. He won't let my mom mow the grass, because, well...that's his job. He loves "the boy" (my baby) and turns into this dancing, smiling, fun, loud weirdo when the boy appears.

He's so strong. He's resillient. He's my daddy. And I love him. Yep. I certainly do.