A Budding Bromance

Whenever I tell anyone I’m the youngest of four girls, they pause for a second before saying something along the lines of, “Your poor father.” I know it’s nothing against me personally. It’s just that girls are crazy, is all. I sure as hell don’t want four daughters.

Growing up, our dad was outside ALL THE TIME mowing the lawn. Our lawn, the neighbors lawn, the median across the street; basically any section of grass was open terrain. Once November came, it went from lawn mowing to snow shoveling. Our walk, the neighbors walk, the church lot down the street; my dad was all over it. He’d mow the lawn, or shovel the walk, alternating it with checking the grill for the burgers or steaks we’d be having for dinner. Grilling was his thing. Now that I’m older, I’m like, whoa, my dad didn’t care about the aesthetics of our lawn, or if our sidewalks were properly salted. Maybe he doesn’t even like grilling all that much; he just wanted to get out of the house.

Really though, who can blame him. That’s a whole lotta estrogen going on. And my sisters and I are always going a mile a minute with our crazy inside jokes and abbreviations that only we understand. It’s enough to make any guy take a step back. Or outside, to mow the lawn or fire up the grill.

B and I are going to Syracuse this weekend to hit up the fair. No biggie...it's only The Great New York State Fair! Believe me, it’s a big deal. Like I was explaining to B when I was trying to make him realize that it would be worth the 5 hour car ride, it’s more than pie eating contests and judging cattle.

Last night my dad called and I assumed he wanted to wrap up some details for the weekend.

Me: Hi, dad.

Dad: Hi. Is Brent there?

Me: Um, yeah...

Me (I hold the phone out to B): He wants to talk to you.

B and my dad are yukking it up and I hear my dad mention how there’s an SU football game on Saturday. He says maybe the menfolk can walk up to campus; have a beer or two, listen to the marching band, enjoy the festivities. Sounds like a nice little pregame before hitting up the wine slushy tent at the fair.

B wraps up his conversation and hands me back the phone. Where I promptly hear a dial tone. My dad had only called me to make plans with my boyfriend.

Too. Presh.

I guess I've always driven my dad to drink...at least now I'm old enough to join him

enjoying some quality togetherness...after the lawn was mowed, of course


How freaking cute is that?! He's so happy to have another man around, it's adorable. And that photo of him with the Jameson is awesome.
Sarah said…
It's funny you posted this today because I was *liter-rally* just telling my boss today about how dad was either mowing the lawn or snow blowing. It was pertinent because he has two daughters in 6th and 8th grade and the estrogen is taking over his house. He sounded intrigued by the lawn mowing aspect and it sounds like he is going to ask his neighbors if they want to hire him to do it for cheaper than they pay their landscaping companies because it will get him out of the house for a whole day on the weekend.

That's cute about Dad and Brent. Maybe Mr. Czyz is out of town this weekend. JK. In related news, we went to a minor league baseball game last night and the other team was having a massive conference on the pitcher's mound. Brendan said "we should get your dad out there to get to the bottom of this." Oh, Daggles.
Brigid said…
@Stephanie: haha, it's not a McCarthy get-together w/ the Jameson making the rounds.

@Sarah: I told Brent that he can't refuse another 10am beer request w/ Daggles...it's just not acceptable.