I know, I know, Father's Day was yesterday and everyone in blogland has already posted about their awesome dads.
But you see here? This is my dad. The hunky one in the thick glasses. If you do not know him, you are really missing out because he's like a celebrity. Seriously. Celebrity-status as in my friends would come over to hang out with me and they would stay to talk to my dad. Seriously.
My dad is famous for his silly jokes that are so lame and obvious that you can't help but laugh.
For his killer omlette-making skills.
And his baked chicken with the crispy salty skin that we would all fight over.
And his deep, boming voice that everyone says should be in radio.
For his ability to play Give Said the Little Stream on the piano. By memory. At a moment's notice.
And also for mini performances of Little Red Riding Hood on his old Mexican guitar.
For that one time he tried to go on a date with my mom while wearing brown slacks and a yellow shirt.
Or that other time that he broke his nose on a knee-board.
My dad is famous for his stories.
Like the one about how he hit himself in the forehead with a hammer and knocked himself out
(a personal favorite).
Or how he burned down an outhouse.
And a barn.
And a sack full of family photos.
And drove his uncle's car into a fire hydrant because he was checkin' out a girl in a miniskirt.
(come on people, it was the 60's).
This is my dad.
The "lucky" father of four crazy girls.
The one who let us braid his hair and paint his toenails and play dress-up in his clothes.
The one who is supremely excited about whatever it is that you are excited about.
The one who helps you dream up your dreamiest dreams.
The one who always believes in you, no matter what.