This is for my Dad.

My wild and crazy crew was lucky enough to be visited by my Dad-and-Val (my counterpart here at Foodie With Family) over the holidays. After five days of relief for me (“Hey! Why don’t you go share that stream-of-consciousness story idea you’re developing with Grandma? She LOVES to read!” and “Papa is outside walking the dog. Why don’t you go out with him? He looks like he could use your company. All five of you.”)  and five days of Dad-and-Val wishing they had hearing aids so they could turn them down our visit came to an end. It was such a treat having them here.

When I got kitted up to go out in the near-zero temperatures to feed the chickens I heard my father snickering. Thinking Dad was reading something funny or formulating a clever pun I asked, “What’s so funny, Dad?” He replied, while pointing at my get-up, “When you were fourteen I never thought I’d see the day that you weren’t worried about how you looked in front of someone else.” 

Well, Dad, this is for you. This is how much I’ve grown. I’m posting a picture of me in that gear and proving that I’ve matured to the point where I can let people laugh at me… (The truth is that my kids killed every last ounce of pride I had related to my appearance. It’s hard to remain vain when someone wipes a booger or frosting on you regardless of the audience or setting…)

And what you can’t see in the picture because (more proof of my dwindling lack of concern about my appearance) I’ve done away with full-length mirrors, is that I’m also wearing wide wale vibrant purple corduroys and knee-high chicken poop covered barn boots. How ’bout THAT?

You will note that my son has no such streak of vanity. Except for the fact that he insists on plastering his hair firmly to his head with water before church a la Dumb and Dumber. I don’t get him. But I still like him…

I still clean up okay, though…