Father's Day Is Not My Favorite

A while after Glen sent me the catfish picture, he sent me this one too. The golden hour for sure. 

This one barely looks real. That is some still water. 

He also called me and told me that he had not just caught a catfish, but also a turtle and a small alligator. 
Good Lord! No worries, all of the critters were released unharmed. 

He got home around three this afternoon. I welcomed him home for Father's Day. I usually make him his favorite dessert for Father's Day which involves chocolate and pecans and whipped cream and cream cheese...

Yeah. I just didn't feel like it this year. Thanks, Zepbound! 

I did order him two pairs of shorts from the same great company where I get my overalls but they haven't arrived yet and they're probably going to be too big. I've made him a card but I haven't given it to him yet. I hope he likes it. 

Father's Day is just a real complicated situation for me. I'm sure I discuss this every year. I get a little jealous and a little put-out with all the people on FaceBook who post about how wonderful their fathers were or still are on Father's Day. I suppose I am mostly resentful, having never really had a father, or at least one that counted unless you're talking about the man who deserted us or the man who fucked me up for life. Well, the abandonment fucked me up for life too. 

I mean, in their own ways, they taught me many lessons, none of which have done a damn thing except guarantee that I would spend years in therapy. And, if we're being honest, do as much as I could do on my own to fuck up my life. That's just the way it is. And I didn't. I didn't because of two people- the therapist and my husband. There were others, too, who supported me when I was going through the hardest parts of the therapy when I finally faced everything as head-on as I could and tried to make sense of it all, tried to understand how it had all affected me which in turn, affected everyone I love. 

The sins of the father, and so on. 

A thing I do every Father's Day is to get in touch with Billy to whom I always say, "I wish I had had a father like you." 
And every year it makes me cry to say those words, to think those words. He didn't have a dad either and and he took all that pain and turned it inside out and created a template of how to be the best father. 

People can be amazing. I am so lucky to know a few of those. 

Knowing there are fathers like Billy and Vergil and Jason helps balance things out in my mind. And of course- the most important father in my life, Glen Moon. 
In the card I made for him I said that when I married him I thought I knew why and I also thought I knew how much I loved him. 

I think it's a sheer miracle that I managed to fall in love with a man who was so family-oriented, so responsible, so loving, so gentle, so kind, so damn hard-working, so dedicated to family. 

Also extremely good-looking and bizarrely tall but I did know that when I married him. And let me assure you he does at least a tiny bad-boy streak and if he hadn't I doubt I ever would have fallen in love with him. 

And if I had to choose whether I would have rather had a good father myself or give my kids a good father, there is no doubt which I'd choose. 

So it all works out. Or at least, it has worked out. Forty years down the road with that man and he's still making me laugh and making me cry and making me crazy and I so love watching him as he is the daddy to four grown kids and granddaddy to five grands. 

Speaking of which, Mr. Moon just announced that he and Owen are heading back up to the lake tomorrow for another three day work event. He was SURE he'd told me this. 
I am sure he did not. 
In his absolute focus on things, he sometimes forgets that he hasn't informed me of his plans. I am used to it. 

I did a little stitching on hems for these whatever-we-want-to-call-them that I've made out of cheesecloth. I could do the whole lot of them on the machine in a very short time but for whatever reason, I want to do them by hand. I'm just doing an easy, fast running stitch and for whatever reason, it's bringing me pleasure. 

I watched TV as I sewed for awhile and I swear to god- the algorithms for me are so sad and predictable. Every single "suggestion for you" is about old people finding love in a retirement community or old people finding love with the next door neighbor after a spouse has died. Or old women going on adventures together and learning how they can do new things. Or old women going on adventures together and finding love or at least a reasonable facsimile for a night. That last one often involves old women discovering the joys of cannabis which is never not funny. Am I right?

And now I need to go fix us some supper. I am feeling a bit agitato right this second as that needs to happen along with getting things organized for Glen to take to feed himself and Owen, and unload the dishwasher. The man actually asked me how to cut up a mango and how to cook spaghetti noodles. 

Sigh. 

Well, I'd have to ask him how to clear a clogged drain or do any of a huge number of things. 
We better both die at the same time or one of us is going to be in deep trouble. 

They could make a movie out of it. 

Love...Ms. Moon