Father's Day 2006 and I get gifts and breakfast in bed. I get oatmeal raisin cookies. I get to stare at the ceiling fan in my bedroom all morning and consider my luck.
Since Thursday my agenda has been simple. I kiss my kids. I drive Claudette's Corvette convertible. I drink Old Fashions under the stars and when the stars go away, I drink cold beer in the cool rain. I tease my sister-in-laws. I torment my wife. I kiss my kids. I call my Dads. I wish them Happy Father's Day.
I try not to write about the crap here. This place is for the good stuff.
After this weekend, I'm convinced capturing the good stuff here is fairly impossible.
That doesn't mean I'm going to stop trying.