My Adventures with Dad #1

Well, I apologize for neglecting my blog for so long; but I have a good reason!

First off, my parents live about 250 miles from me, which is a good 3 1/2 hour to 4 hour drive (yes, I am a maniac driver). Secondly, my dad being the stubborn-mixed-up-mess he is, decided to stop taking all his medications after being fired by his doctor for some obscure reason. Yes, doctors can fire patients! And lastly, my mother had a month-long overseas trip planned out for almost a year, and wouldn't you know it, a week before her trip my dad gets hospitalized for a pulmonary embolism (blood clots in his lungs).

The first time I called and talked to him in the hospital, I think he was out of it. I couldn't tell if he was tripping on the drugs he was getting or if he had a stroke, basically because I don't think I've ever heard of someone talking about helicopters flying through their room. But that was really the only wacky thing he said, the other times I called him he sounded okay.

So, being the good son that I am *cough* I told my mom to go ahead with her trip and that I'd come up and watch him for a while, possibly until she came back. Secretly, I was hoping for just a week or two since he really didn't sound that sick to me. Now to clarify something, I love my parents, but I can't stand to be around them for very long. My mom is constantly trying to fix me up with women of her choosing and my dad is just too clingy (I guess that's a good word for it), he asks me where I'm going even if I just get off the couch to go pee (nice huh?).

Well this post wasn't meant to dad-bash. He got out of the hospital a few days after I came here and has been doing just fine. This post was really meant to share some of the funnier times that I've had with him, or as I'd like to call it (insert big thundering voice here), My Adventures with Dad! I've shared a few of his stories with some friends, but I've decided to just blog the ones that won't scar people for life. So here is a story from today :P

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My sister was here a little over a week ago. She was cooking food for the three of us, but left some food in the fridge. She called last night to tell me that there was a corned beef brisket that needed to be cooked and relayed the step-by-step instructions on how to prepare it. I've never claimed to be a good cook and I'm pretty restricted when it comes to my menu, but I thought I'd wing it from memory.

An onion, two cloves of garlic, some peppercorns and the meat tossed into a pot for about two hours. I tossed some potatoes and carrots in the broth after I pulled out the meat for cooling. All in all, I think I did a pretty good job on the whole process. My dad and I ate and enjoyed the meal. I was just happy I didn't screw it up.

So while I was washing all the dishes, my dad comes and stands next to me to watch. He compliments me on the meal and then I hear a poof.

"Did you just fart?"

"Well I went through the motions," he proclaims.

"If that's how you compliment the chef after a meal, then I'm not cooking for you anymore!" I cried as I waved him and his flatulence out of the kitchen.

Oh the joys of being home.