Dad’s Day

Where in the world have I been? 

Well…I’m not really sure. 

So quit asking.

Man, do I have a lot of things to blog about.  And yet, I’m feeling too mentally tired to be witty and charming and witty. 

Why am I so mentally tired you ask.

Well…I’m not really sure.

So quit asking.

It might have something to do with the 90° weather we’ve been having.  I must be a true Oregonian now and I’m sensitive to the sun. 

It might have something to do with my new responsibilities at church.  I’m the Relief Society president now and it’s a tad overwhelming.  (Feel free to start referring to me as Madame President.)

It might be…it just might be…that I’m inherently a sloth.

That’s Madame President Sloth to you.

I’m going to push through my trance and write something exceptional for you – or at least something mediocre.  Let’s begin with an event that happened long ago.  So long ago in fact, it might have even happened in a different dimension.  (Eva likes to talk about dimensions a lot.  I don’t really get it.  She’s much brighter than I am.) 

Long ago, in a dimension far, far away, Michael attended “Dad’s Day” at Eva’s preschool.

They ate donuts.  They played a game.  Eva gave him a baseball with her handprint on it as a present.  Michael doesn’t play baseball.  Unless you count sitting down in the outfield with your mitt in your lap picking at the grass as “playing baseball.”

No matter.  It was a sweet date for the two of them.

And Eva knows a lot about her dad.  She really loves that guy.  Who can blame her?  He’s pretty great.

Such a wonderful Dad’s Day!  Next time I’ll tell you about Eva’s graduation. 

Prolly in about 4 months from now.