To Dad, Love Petie

Tonight, Brian and I went swimming at the gym and the smell of chlorine forced me to shower immediately after I arrived home. After hopping out, I felt a bit challenged on what to do with my hair since I knew I’d be heading to bed in just a few hours. Lately it’s been so dry and knotty so I thought a post-shower braid might be nice.

Looking in the mirror, I instantly thought of my dad who was in charge of maintaining my long mane in my younger days. Even though my mom’s a hairdresser, Dad was always so much gentler with the brush and I think he enjoyed the time together just him and me.

Time spent together as father and daughter is far and few between these days as both responsibilities and the family grow. With Father’s Day just a few days away I’m looking forward to celebrating the man who mastered not only gently brushing my hair but who made growing up so special.

A few other things that make my Dad one-of-a-kind:

He passed on to me the lifelong habit of eating cookies for breakfast.

He taught my sister and me respect at a young age.

He took on coaching a sport he knew nothing about so I could play soccer.

He taught me how to strike up a conversation with just about anyone.

He’s made me feel like an American Idol since the moment I sang into a kitchen spoon.

He took us girls fishing and crabbing with the boys.

He makes a mean cold-cut bread and taught me the skill when I was old enough to start caring how to cook.

He showed me the art of a good nap.

He never fails to say how proud he is of any of us.

He showed us with hard work, comes great rewards.

He showed Michelle and me how fun cleaning a pool cover can be.

He never failed to get a kick out of how I could parallel park my Power Wheels.

He remained patient while teaching me how to drive even though he had to pull up the e-break to stop us from crashing.

He worked 7-days a week to put us through college. He’s always wanting more for us.

It’s cliché but I could go on and on. Thanks Daddy for being 1 in a million.

Back to life, back to reality

This past weekend was one in which I experienced the full spectrum of highs and lows during the wedding planning process. After becoming a bit overwhelmed (okay very overwhelmed) at the venue on Saturday morning, arguing with those I love and shedding enough tears to fill the Delaware River, Sunday finally brought me back to reality.

The wedding is not important. This is something I have always believed but now I have to actually put that belief into practice and it's not easy. It's simple, especially for me, to become buried with stress when there is a multitude of things to think about. Instead of focusing on what truly matters that day I've been consumed with thoughts of how our day will measure up to the ones on TV or even worse those of our friends who we'll be attending in the months leading up to our special day. What matters most is what happened on Sunday at our engagement party. What this special part of our lives is really all about is sharing our love with the ones we love. As Brian's sister said, if the building is crumbling down around us on our wedding day, we'll still be standing across from each other becoming husband and wife with our closest family and friends by our sides, and I like that.

Fun is in the eye of the beholder

After watching a “lady” urinate down her leg three times last summer during a concert of one of our favorite artists, Brian and I banned outdoor performances until we could recover. With our local country radio station giving away free tickets to a show featuring several artists, we thought it might be a good idea to give it another chance.

Considering the wholesome-as-apple-pie image of country music, we had assumed it would produce a more mature audience. In the very least, we anticipated that the crowd would be able to, if nothing else, control their bladders until they made it to the bathroom. This is an assumption we made incorrectly. After sitting on the highway, waiting to exit for over an hour, a girl erupted from the car in front of us and proceeded to pull down her pants and, well, you can guess what followed.

Eventually, we came within blocks of the amphitheater and I guess you can say the crowd surprised us a bit. Trusting our intuition, we quickly noticed they were both younger and drunker than last year and we made a prompt decision to turn around. It wasn’t long before we were getting texts that fights were breaking out on the lawn area of the venue. Man, did we dodge a bullet.

Our decision to cross the bridge and hit Philly for cheese steaks instead of the concert sparked a conversation between Brian and me about what is and is not fun. While we sometimes get the feeling that others may look at us as boring or unexciting because we’d rather read a good book on the beach than hit up a bar is A-OK with us. After all, fun, like beauty, is all in the eye of the beholder. I’d pick a Geno’s date, just the two of us any day over being surrounded by thousands of people whose idea of a good time means using the lawn as a toilet.