Weekly Wacko (60)
Talk to Myself, Sing to Myself, Go Crazy All By Myself
I wrote before about my brilliant camping strategy – who needs a tent when you have a mini-van and a short body?
One morning, I’m not sure if my sister had also slept in the mini-van or not, but we were both in there. I took the middle section (fit for two people sitting – prior to the popularity of the ‘quad bucket seats’), and she took the far back (fit for three people sitting).
We woke up and saw that our dad was the only tent-sleeping person awake. He was getting the camping stove ready for a breakfast.
Since my dad was in the Army, M.R.E.’s were a staple food on our camping trips. An MRE is a “Military Readiness Meal” and it is a powerful punch of calories. High on calories, low on satisfied customers. Though I’m pretty sure I thought they were awesome (I even got some one time, thinking my then-girlfriend and I would have a picnic lunch of MRE’s … What can I say, I’m a romantic). For breakfast that day he was fixing up something different. It was a special day not for that reason though.
E$, my sister, and I noticed – who’s dad talking to? He’s definitely talking. Oh yeah, his mouth is moving and he’s jabbering like crazy.
But no one was there.
My dad, if the wheels are really turning, can’t help but mouth the words. He doesn’t say them out loud (not yet?, eh Mom?), but you can tell when he’s really thinking. I’m allowed to make fun of him for many reasons – but one of them is that I’m already starting to do this.
E$ and I had a blast sitting in the car, watching our dad talk his head off. To himself.
A special day, for a special man. ZING!
(Again, it’s only a matter of time before this is me.)
DumbFunnery 