Ah, waitresses...
So I saw The One That Got Away today. Which stands to reason, as I was in her restaurant. In other news, I got another waitress' phone number - this time, a rather sexy one from St. Paul. How do I do it? Who knows?

But on to the meat of the post.

Maybe its been because I'm working in the same field-ish as Dad did, but... Basically, I can remember a lot of little things (or not so little) that Dad had done for us when we were younger - from knowing when and where the Saskatoons were in bloom, to knowing where good spots to pick up sand for our sandbox was, to finding weird or curious rocks on jobsites and bringing them home for us. I never became a rockhound or anything, but I do certainly appreciate the effort at fostering our desire to look at the world with open eyes, to be able to look out and see the everyday beauty around us. I also really appreciate the fact that Dad was able to be home a lot of the time, and that we were always able to go on family vacations together - to some really neat places, too. We were never rich growing up, but both Mom and Dad seemed to work really hard to make sure we had what was important.

And I have to say, it's nice now that as much as they are both parents, they've become friends. Over the last couple years it seems that we've grown quite close as a... family, of sorts. Both Mom and Dad have been really supportive and encouraging as we meander our respective ways along life's paths.

But it's also the little things I remember. The sand. The rocks. The insulators from power poles. The caribou antler. The Demster Highway Spare. Directions (and Ice Cream). Garden watching. Dad nearly refusing completely to step into Utah. Waterfall counting and Licence plate tracking. All the little things.

Thank you. Happy Father day.

I love you, Dad.