How I get blogged down:

  1. Didn’t have the moolah to get something for Dad.
  2. Was going to do a super-awesome blog post to send him that would make him cry for sure.
  3. Slept in (until AFTER TEN!) on Fathers’ Day.
  4. Started the post.
  5. My daughter got up and started her cute Aja-chatter and I couldn’t concentrate.
  6. I saved the few words I’d started with.
  7. I haven’t gotten back on the blog since, because you know, now I’ve got the pressure on myself to do a mega-super-awesome post for my dad to make up for the fact that I didn’t get it done on Fathers’ Day.

Okay, so I need to delete that draft so I can move on and write something new for Dad, even if it’s not on Fathers’ Day. Heck, he’s my dad every day, so I don’t have to restrict writing about him to one arbitrarily Hallmark-designated day.

For now, I’ll just say that the world would be a much better place if everyone had a dad like mine to love and encourage them, to worry about them, to guide them, to provide an eternal safe harbour, to fix stuff for them, to make them laugh. That’s why I’ve always shared my dad around–his well doesn’t seem to ever run dry, and so many people, even those with perfectly good dads of their own, come away from an encounter with my dad feeling happier, feeling like maybe they CAN do it after all, feeling like it’s gonna be all right. Because my dad? He cares.

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