Care and Feeding
Feeding one’s papa is very important. Mine likes brown rice and fried egg whites. He puts salad dressing on everything. Last night I made him some spicy Indian chicken with salad and rice with roasted peppers and a pan o’ flan. He hasn’t been feeling well, like he’s coming down with something, but today he woke up and said he felt a little better. Today we will eat Japanese food, because he likes Japanese food.
Here are the things my Da consumes to better his health. I think the grape juice is for his heart. I forget what the cherry juice is for, but it’s good for something. He drinks soy milk instead of regular milk. He likes soy everything. He tries to stay away from very very salty things, and tomatoes, and a whole huge list of other things he oughtn’t have because of heart or kidneys or brain or any number of things. (Is there stuff he’s not allowed to eat because of his brain surgeries? I’m not sure. Hmm.) Bad foods are okay occasionally. Eating something once a week won’t kill you. (I think that’s his. I quote.)
Doggie Companions
My dad has always had doggie companions. The dogs were always the fault of my mother, my sister and I, but Dad always took care of them. Liesl was his first companion. Liesl stayed in his room with him all day, all the time. They were buddies. After Liesl died, Zeno and Isabel stayed with him some of the time, but now that Isabel’s gone, Zeno is Dad’s buddy now. We all acknowledge that Zeno is the best dog who ever lived in the history of the planet. Zeno will politely ask permission and, when given, reclines leisurely on the bed. He also likes to cuddle. See?
Here are some things my Daddy says.
Semper ubi sub ubi. (Always where under where.) You don’t have to be sorry, no one died. Eating something once a week won’t kill you. Beware of the hook. The Captain’s Word is Law. Eskimos pray: Give us this day our daily fish. The voice in your head is in voice jail. It wouldn’t be there unless it’d done something bad. Don’t listen to it. Hey, diddle, diddle, The cat and the fiddle, The cow jumped over the moon. The little dog laughed To see such sport, And the dish ran away with the fish.
Here are some songs my Daddy taught me.
Poisoning Pigeons in the Park. The Vatican Rag. The Kid Who Wasn’t Going to Drink But Did Anyway and Regretted It. (I used to play this on the guitar.) There was an old woman who lived in the woods, wheel-a wheel-a waaaalll-ya. C-H-I-C-K-E-N. The Elements Song. (Daddy always sings this one the best.) I learned the Animaniacs Countries song because of a bet with him. Here are some musicals I know because my Daddy liked them: My Fair Lady. Fiorello! We used to listen to these on old cassette tapes in his little car in Pennsylvania when I was growing up. They’d been recorded off of records. I always remember the breaks in Fiorello where the record had messed up – when I listen to my digital copy today, I can still sing the goofy broken bits in my head, as if the record were still messing up the recording.
Conversationalism
My dad is the best person to talk to ever in the history of people. He knows lots of things, and doesn’t ever stop surprising me. Occasionally this pisses me off, but sometimes I don’t like to hear that I’m wrong. My dad would always tell me honestly what he thought of any performance, so that I could have good objective criticism to work with. Dad always puts new perspectives on things. He knows what all kinds of things mean. He has made me see all kinds of alternate dimensions and parallel universes that who even knew were there? We Morrises don’t need recreational drugs, we are already too cognitively loose. I definitely inherited that!
All told, my dad is the BEST POSSIBLE dad. I am certain of this. I sure am glad he’s around. :}
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