Warning whining zone ahead...

Ok I am a Daddy's girl. Of course I have good reason to be. I grew up with a strong Dad who got custody of my only full sister and me when I was about one. Excluding the eight months spent with my mother as a preteen and the time spent in a children’s home shortly after that, he was the one taking care of me growing up. I respect my Dad for going from a married man with two very young children to taking on the role of a single Dad with two female's who made no sense to him what so ever. Even though I turned out all right, I am still completely convinced that my Dad thought I was a boy right up until the time that I grew breast and had a period. For these reasons and many more I admit it! In fact, I proudly proclaim to the world my status of a Daddy’s girl.

This being said, yesterday I was lured up to visit with promises of lasagna in 75-degree weather and the guilt of father’s day. Dad lives in Lewiston, which is not to far away but not exactly a fun place to visit seeing as it is dirty, smelly, and prone to car vandalism. The point is I had fun and a lot of it. The food was palatable and fully cooked. The family was in a great mood with no fights breaking out and all blood feuds being called to a halt for the day. My sisters (he's not good enough for her) boyfriend was not there to distract her from being good company and my brother Brian actually took time off from being a gamer geek to visit with the non-RPG characters infiltrating his lair. I spent about five hours being praised for being a bright kid and basically being help captive by Dad and my Step Mum before being grudgingly allowed to leave with a box full of food because apparently gaining 15 pounds and barely fitting into my jeans means I've lost weight not gained it. GOD I LOVE MY FAMILY! In fact the only bad point to the whole visit was me having to “play nice” with the only family member that I can actually say I STRONGLY dislike and whose presence I avoid in all situations if possible.

After going home and calming my stomach down a little (not just from the cooking), I attempted to go to bed and had thee worst nightmares ever. You see I live in this dream world where if I just try to pretend everything is all right and good with the world it will be. Unfortunately that does not work with things like a Dad who I adore going in for a surgery that could be prevented if he would smarten up change his diet and stop smoking. Deep down I know He’s going to die and while we are all going to go sooner or later I prefer… no I NEED my Dad to go later. Unfortunately, my dreams remind me that my reality is vastly different from what I pretend it to be. I get my stubbornness from my Dad and I know he will continue to do what he wants and when he goes it will be from being too damn stubborn to bend to the doctors request for heather eating habits and completely quitting smoking. Still, I really hate dreams where I wake up screaming and no one is there to calm me down. That and I could have used more than four hours of sleep on a work night.

Sorry for the whining I am just tired……………..