My dad and I have LOTS of conversations. I talk to him almost every day. I guess I should start with one of our typical episodes.
Right now he is in the process of remodeling a house I lived in during law school. Keep in mind he is 71 years old and has been through 2 heart surgeries and various hospital stays since he was 65. Yet, somehow he manages to keep going. He refuses to hire workers, insisting that he has "nothing for them to do yet." So I have been volunteering to help him the last few weekends. I want this house on the market and sold. (Did I mention he has ended up hospitalized twice while working on this project?) As a reader of this blog you should also keep in mind Curtis is selectively deaf. I think he hears what he wants to hear. He says, "huh?" a lot.
We tore up some of the carpet last weekend and the rest on Saturday. Sunday I went over to paint...
Curtis: Who are you supposed to be with that bandana on your head?
Me: I'm your painter for the day.
Curtis: You look like the syrup lady.
Me: Aunt Jemima? I was going more for Tupac.
Curtis: I only got you 1 pack of rollers. It shouldn't take 2.
Me (Loudly): No dad, Tupac, the rapper.
Curtis: Rapper? What are you talking about? Did you come here to paint or what?
Me: Nevermind.
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