My Dad

Dad is coming today, for a week of visiting his grand-daughters. I don't talk about Dad much on my blog, because he makes me absolutely insane. And no, I am talking euphemisms here. I feel my brains leaking away when he visits, and Michael has forbidden me to go to the grocery store with Dad, because we come home with 2 tons of bratwurst and other bizarre things.

So just for fun, I thought I would have another game, this time about my Dad. Here is a list of really fun quirks, please tell me which of these quirks are made up.

1. He shoots squirrels in his backyard and barbecues them.
2. He has bad skin from being dusted by a crop duster as a kid.
3. Despite being a third generation American, he didn't learn to speak English until he was 7.
4. He is very generous with his time and money.
5. He suggested I name Arabella for a Dutch prostitute he once met.
6. His house was blown up by al-Qaeda.
7. He had a parrot that only said "shut up, you little shit."
8. He can identify precious gemstones, and evaluate diamond quality.
9. He is allergic to cats.
10. He bears a resemblance to Saddam Hussein.

I'll send a knitted mug to the first person to get this right. My mom (because she was married to him, fercryinoutloud) must recuse herself from this quiz. I'll send her a mug just because she's Mom.

So Dad arrives tonight. The good thing about having kids is it takes some of the pressure off of me, not because he looks after them (are you kidding? I had palpitations the one time I let him take a 2 year old Arabella on a walk to the store one block away. And I don't think he has ever changed a diaper, despite his claims), but because he has less attention to criticize me when he's playing with the girls all the time.

I love my Dad, but sometimes I think a normal dad might have been nice.