Defining a Dad's Duties

I am not a Daddy's girl because that was never a possibility. I have five younger sisters, so I was just part of the group of females who shared his life. He was an old-school dad who never changed a diaper or made us a meal, and since I wasn't one of the athletic daughters, we didn't even share his love of sports like some of my sisters did. But the reality was that in his own way, he had a huge hand in shaping the female I became.

So on this Father's Day, I thanked my Dad for making me who I am. For challenging me to share my opinions at the dinner table every night until I left for college (I no longer need any provocation to do so). For suggesting books he thought would interest me and then telling me to write about why I liked them...or disliked them (write your thoughts and feelings, he always said). For telling me flat-out that I had lovely legs when I was eleven (he takes credit because he has great legs).

For modeling how to treat a woman you truly love (he still thinks my Mom is the love of his life). For demonstrating how far a sense of humor and a good vocabulary can take a person in a room full of strangers. For teaching me how to eat crabs until there is not a shred of meat left in them (and hanging in there eating as long as any man).

Every year for Father's Day I drive to the river to spend the afternoon eating crabs and talking with my Dad. For many years, I was the only daughter who did so, but this year two other sisters came and we had great fun reminiscing and reminding each other of long-forgotten stories.

Judging by his reaction, I think my Dad got a kick out of my laundry list of why I thought he'd been a superlative Dad. But driving back, it occurred to me that he probably would have preferred that I'd written out my list. As the man who taught me the importance of the written word, he would have loved having something to refer back to.

I've been home less than an hour and it's already written; I'll drop it in the mail as I leave the house tonight. Happy Father's Day, Dad, with love from Eldest Daughter.

Crispy Fried Pig's Head

Highlights from the past 24 hours:

Make all the snide comments you want about eating pig's head, but you'd be a fool to do so until you tasted it, which I did last night at Six Burner.

It was lovely: crunchy outside with an incredibly rich inside and a taste that defies being labeled as anything's head.

Thank you, Lee, for this delicious surprise, followed by all the great food talk.

Finding another extroverted Gemini to wile away a Monday evening with.

I may just have found my band bitch (her words, not mine).

Brooks Winery 2007 Pinot Noir, a perfect example of Willamette Valley Pinot Noir, suggested by Tracey at Six Burner because it's the winery at which she'll be working the harvest very soon.

She and her partner leave next week for Oregon and after the harvest, the great unknown.

We said our goodbyes tonight and I will miss our weekly chats about life, love and RVA. but I am beyond excited for her.

An afternoon spent eating crabs and more crabs on a screened-in porch on the Northern Neck, with the Rappahanock River as a backdrop.

If that isn't the epitome of a lazy summer afternoon, I don't know what is.

A Tuesday evening enjoying a friend with whom I can share anything...and do.

Topics covered tonight: A/C, birthday cards and checks, absence of wooing, perfect bread, men with expressive hand gestures, Pollack, deKooning, CV joints and reading blogs.

Who misses the opposite sex with this kind of goodness going on?

Okay, in theory anyway, I do, but until that's a possibility, I am grateful for excellent conversation, vibrant pinot noir and getting to enjoy crispy friend pig's head.

You know you wish you could taste it.