Papa's Birthday
Today is my Papa's birthday, which makes it a fantastic day all around. Today is the day I get to celebrate with everyone else the fact that God put this man on earth, and that he made him my Papa. For that, I will be forever grateful. God, I owe ya one.
Papa and I are two peas in a pod. We're like peas and carrots. We have the same warped sense of humor, the same taste in music (mostly), and the same innate curiosity about the world. We were the half of the family that got stoked about getting to tour the Denver mint, while my mom and sister griped that they'd rather be sitting on a beach somewhere.
When I was little, my Papa would get me up in the mornings before school, and if it was cold he'd carry me downstairs and set me on my stool so my feet wouldn't have to touch the cold tile floor. Then he'd entertain and amuse me to the point that we'd both be cackling and Mom would yell, "Hey, some of us are still trying to sleep!" I think that only made us laugh harder. I credit my being a morning person to Papa, for teaching me that it's perfectly normal to be fun and a little bit zany early in the a.m.
Papa coached my little league team and taught me how to ride my bike, and even how to throw a punch. He taught me how to change the oil in my car, how to change a flat tire, and how to get up after I fell (and "quit feeling sorry for yourself!"). He showed me how to run a crane, and let me wear his hardhat to school on "What I Want To Be When I Grow Up" Day.
He amazed me with his ability to throw a ball so high in the air it disappeared, and that I could throw a ball 10 feet to the left of him and he could toss his glove to catch it. He taught me how to do crossword puzzles, and the cryptoquip (although I'm sure he regrets that now, since I routinely cream him during cryptoquip matches).
He tied my Bigwheel to the back of the riding lawn mower, so I could ride around behind him, and he built the coolest clubhouse that I've ever seen, complete with a fireman's pole to slide down.
He tried like hell to teach me not to swear, and protected me from the big, bad world as long as he could.
And he did all this with so much love and affection that it's hard to believe I'm not his biological daughter.
So, for you Papa, I've compiled this little list of great memories:
Madagascar Monkey Mucus Membranes
Abacab
Elephant Rocks
"Turn here! Oh my God, you just went over the CURB!"
Noodles ala Alpo
Turn around and punch him in the nose!
Mama (also known as "haaa haaa haaaaaaa - ooooooh")
Lorraine The Crane
Cracking hardboiled eggs on your head
Polynesian Parrott Puke
Golf with your friends!
Brush your face and wash your teeth
Phlegm - Flem
Watching Mir cross the night sky, and looking through the telescope
ee-ya-eeeeee, Daddy! And happy birthday!
Papa and I are two peas in a pod. We're like peas and carrots. We have the same warped sense of humor, the same taste in music (mostly), and the same innate curiosity about the world. We were the half of the family that got stoked about getting to tour the Denver mint, while my mom and sister griped that they'd rather be sitting on a beach somewhere.
When I was little, my Papa would get me up in the mornings before school, and if it was cold he'd carry me downstairs and set me on my stool so my feet wouldn't have to touch the cold tile floor. Then he'd entertain and amuse me to the point that we'd both be cackling and Mom would yell, "Hey, some of us are still trying to sleep!" I think that only made us laugh harder. I credit my being a morning person to Papa, for teaching me that it's perfectly normal to be fun and a little bit zany early in the a.m.
Papa coached my little league team and taught me how to ride my bike, and even how to throw a punch. He taught me how to change the oil in my car, how to change a flat tire, and how to get up after I fell (and "quit feeling sorry for yourself!"). He showed me how to run a crane, and let me wear his hardhat to school on "What I Want To Be When I Grow Up" Day.
He amazed me with his ability to throw a ball so high in the air it disappeared, and that I could throw a ball 10 feet to the left of him and he could toss his glove to catch it. He taught me how to do crossword puzzles, and the cryptoquip (although I'm sure he regrets that now, since I routinely cream him during cryptoquip matches).
He tied my Bigwheel to the back of the riding lawn mower, so I could ride around behind him, and he built the coolest clubhouse that I've ever seen, complete with a fireman's pole to slide down.
He tried like hell to teach me not to swear, and protected me from the big, bad world as long as he could.
And he did all this with so much love and affection that it's hard to believe I'm not his biological daughter.
So, for you Papa, I've compiled this little list of great memories:
Madagascar Monkey Mucus Membranes
Abacab
Elephant Rocks
"Turn here! Oh my God, you just went over the CURB!"
Noodles ala Alpo
Turn around and punch him in the nose!
Mama (also known as "haaa haaa haaaaaaa - ooooooh")
Lorraine The Crane
Cracking hardboiled eggs on your head
Polynesian Parrott Puke
Golf with your friends!
Brush your face and wash your teeth
Phlegm - Flem
Watching Mir cross the night sky, and looking through the telescope
ee-ya-eeeeee, Daddy! And happy birthday!
posted by Amy at 2:34 PM
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