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Sunday, June 15, 2008

Happy Papa Dangerous Day!

Fathers Day. Year 1:

I woke up and just figured we'd stay in the house, close the blinds, maybe take a family vacation to the basement, change 12 trillion diapers, play the "who does this baby look like" game for a few hours and that would be it for Father's day. In bed by 3 PM.

Nooooo, The Dairy Queen had other ideas. There was an 8am reservation made in downtown Golden for a Father's Day buffet. First of all, notice the reservation time. 8am. We were there with all the other vampires of the night a.k.a parents and kids, and some old folks who were already on their 6th cup of coffee. Secondly, this was no sissy whipped cream buffet. This was a man's buffet. I'm talking hunks of meat, fried fish, ribs, raw oysters, processed pork products, dinosaur eggs, ham knuckles, sheeps, goats, rocks, gasoline....all for breakfast. Nothing makes you feel more manly then gnawing on some bones for breakfast. I'm not sure I felt "fatherly", but I sure felt good.

Ellie, was on her best behaviour, we didn't have to call Mr. Manager (this was the mythical rule enforcer that my Uncle Freddy used to say would come out of the kitchen with numchucks if we were acting up at the table when we were kids...or at least, that's the way I remember it), and enjoyed sleeping in her carseat next to Papa.

Drink menu. Is 8am to early for a Margarita. Yes. Too early for fried fish and hushpuppies? No.

Did you know they make Tabasco sauce bottles for newborns? EGB said, "Whoah, you crazy papa! I'm on a strict diet of milk."

After the man-meal, I figured it was time to go to the house and do man-things like put on a new roof or pee in the yard, but EGB requested a walk to the creek. As her noble father, I happily obliged, put on my British War Admiral cap, saluted the limber folks at the yoga studio, and led charge to the mighty Clear Creak. At least that's what I think this hat is...picked it up 2nd hand for costume purposes and have no idea what it's origins are. I hope it's not some offensive hat representing some oppressive military regime in Africa, because I'm not like that. If you can identify it's origin, you'll be the first winner of my blog sweepstakes.
Whew, after fighting off Starbucks villians and suburban road bikers with skintight Powerbar shirts we ended up at the creek.
All in Line! Hands Up! Mission Accomlished!
Now it's time to relax.

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