Every morning he makes a half pot of incredibly strong coffee, which he proceeds to drink for the rest of the day, and pours himself a cup-full in his favorite mug. He can be found for the next hour or so sitting on the blue couch in the living room sipping from that favorite mug and scanning the San Diego Union Tribune. After this ritual reading comes a lengthy time of silence which involves again, the coffee mug, and a gazing out of the living room window. Now, this window does not provide a wonderous view. If one chooses to mush their face up against the screen to the far right, they can recieve a small view of the bay and the naval boats and aircraft carriers that come in regularly, but otherwise you are resricted to gaze at the hillside homes on the other side of the canyon. This canyon is split by a heavily used boulevard that provides the soundtrack for daily living in this residency.
This coffee-sipping, paper-reading, window-gazing fellow is none other than my motorcycle-riding, four-child-raising, incredibly-well-versed-in-every-topic father. And I admire him greatly.
In other news, my little sister and I made cookies today and I began the annual cleaning out of the 4 storage tubs I have remaining at home and the re-packing for school. Conclusion: I own too many books. Conclusion to that conclusion: I don't care and will continue to purchase more. While participating in this delightful all-day ordeal, I found a few things of interest. The first being my father's letters to my mother while they were dating, in the late 70's, long distance. Long distance...that should appeal to a few people. The second being a 4 page document, made by myself in the 5th grade, of the house I lived in as a child. Memories...