Father's Day

by Steph

God is good.

Can I get an AMEN?

Yesterday was Father's Day. I'm in Sacramento, with my husband. My Daddy is in So Cal (with my mom, of course).

Fortunately, we live in a day and age where I can still talk to my dad on Father's Day and say "Hey, I didn't get you a tie this year."

This is my Daddy.

Here he is again in artsy black and white:

I got married about 9.5 months ago. When is it too late to keep using those pictures? In my defense, they're online and it's either old pics for you people or no pics. Beggars can't be choosers.

Also, I know my hair is falling out, but I had just finished the first dance with my husband and if you had seen it, you'd understand why my hair was falling out.

Back to Dad's, mine is the best. Not that I'm biased, but he managed 20-some years in the same house with 4 women.

My mom is Mexican. Which means there were about 2 and a half Mexicans in that house (if you count that me and my sister's are halfsies.)

That's a lot of hot blood.

But he's always been a pretty cool guy. Pun unintentionally intended. Always steadfast... always patience... always deliberate in what he says. {But in a house with 4 women, when you finally have a chance to say something, I guess it's good to make it meaningful.}

Dad, I know you said you don't have favorites.

Riiiiiiight.

It's okay. I'll keep it a secret.

Except I'll tell my readers.

I'm his favorite.

Because I'm the middle child and I have issues.

My dad gets it.

He's the middle too.

Happy Father's Day Pops!

Love,

Your favorite

(It's okay, I don't think my sister's read this very often...)

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