Dear Laney,
Your dad mocked me endlessly for going shopping on Black Friday last year, because to stand in a line of people just to shop is "crazy," and to fight your way through a horde of people just to save some money "totally isn't worth it," and the frenzy that occurs when stores first open their doors to the public is "insane."
Ahem.
Last weekend was the SOS Ski Swap, where people from all around the area consign their used ski equipment, with a portion of the proceeds going to local search and rescue organizations. The sale started at 10am. Your dad was in line by 8am. This is a picture of that line:
I did not take that picture. Instead, I stole it from the sale's facebook page. I wasn't within a mile of the sale because I do not stand out in freezing, windy weather for an-y-thing. Willie Nelson could be playing a block up the road, and if it were overcast and 20 degrees and blustery, I'd wave and yell from the porch, "Love ya, Willie!" then come inside and shut the damn door like a person with sense.
Your dad sent me a few text messages from inside the sale, like: "Measure Laney's head!" Other than that, we didn't hear from him for hours. I'd'a worried he'd been trampled in some Black Friday-esque stampede, except those tragedies usually involve a herd of southern women, and I knew no southern woman in this world would'a stood in a line to buy skis or a (hairdo-crushing) helmet.
He made it home for lunch, and was lit up like a Christmas tree. I can't remember when I've seen him as excited as he was to haul in that pile of ski gear, including your first pair of downhill skis:
The only person who could match his enthusiasm was you:
...At least, until twelve or so minutes passed, and you decided you were done with skiing and wanted to move on to yoga.
So your dad just stepped around you to grab himself a beer.
Namaste, everybody,
Mom
No comments:
Post a Comment