Day 25 Cheek Turning
I heart you guys. I’m gonna reply to some of your recent comments right here.
Leslie. Come to Minneapolis. I’ll take you to all the best places to eat! Do you like the flavor of truffle oil?
Mary. You weigh 90 lbs. Is that in dog pounds? Are you 4 feet tall? Am I bugging you? Come to Minneapolis. We’ll go out to eat. Do you like latkes?
CJP – Yay! Is right! Come to Minneapolis because I say so!
Mo from NE. Come to Minneapolis. We’ll go out to eat. Do you like Vietnamese food?
Ms. Stepford. I had to google “casters sugar” = superfine sugar. You live, you learn! I ended up choosing Alton Brown’s recipe because it had the same ingredients I had on hand and I didn’t have to have anything translated. Come to Minneapolis. We’ll go to First Avenue and watch and band play and get a free beverage from my nephew!
Kate – I’ll keep the photos coming! It’s my goal this year! That, and tossing out 2013 things from my house (I’ll start tossing out and counting paper clips in December!) Come to Minneapolis. We’ll order in and sit by the fire!
Karen – I’m sorry that both of your parents had issues with your weight. I was lucky to have a father who adored me for my adorable self, skinny or not skinny. Come to Minneapolis. We’ll go out to eat. Do you like Dan Dan Noodles?
And that reminds me that I didn’t tell you the story about how I got mad, all over again, at my mom on the day that Dear Abby died.
My mother, she didn’t like me much when I was a kid. And that’s because my dad really liked me and even though she stayed married to him until he died, she hated his guts.
Here’s the story that connects us to Dear Abby.
My dad used to tell funny stories and sometimes play practical jokes (nice ones) He talked and talked about how he went to college with Dear Abby and that Tennessee Ernie Ford was some sort of platoon leader in his Army Air Corp days (WWII). “Sure Pops,” I’d say to him.
And then one day I got the bright idea to write Dear Abby a letter. So I did. It read, “Dear Abby, My dad said he went to school with you but I’m not sure whether or not I should believe him. Kathy”
Some time later I got a handwritten note from Dear Abby. On a half sheet of paper with a heart on it and printed From The Desk of Dear Abby” near the heart. Handwritten on the notepaper was this note “Dear Kathy, Your father was a wonderful man, why would you call him a liar?”
My dad laughed and wiped laughter-tears from his eyes. He was always tear-laughing.
I gave him the note.
After he died, my mom tossed out all of his stuff without asking anyone if they wanted anything. She didn’t like him so why should we?
I pretty much forgot about that letter until Dear Abby died last week.
Now I’m mad at my mom all over again and am reminded of how often I’ve had to turn the other cheek with her, as I will continue to do with what time she has left. That’s what Dear Abby would want me to do!