2/15/10

2/15/10

Today Dad seems to think we're shop-keepers. “Are you waiting for customers? When do they start coming in?” he asked me. When I explained that there wouldn't be any customers because today is President's Day, he said, “if anyone turns up, we say 'sorry, we're not in business today.'”

“My pants don't fit,” said Dad to Jaelynn last night. “I think I'm pregnant.”

Last week I accidentally gave Dad a stomach virus. Since I only vomited once, and I was on the train at the time, I figured it was an attack of motion sickness, and continued on my way to spend friday night with Dad. Saturday night, after Dad had gone to bed, Samantha heard a loud “Jesus Christ!” She ran to the bedroom to find Dad vomiting over the side of the bed. He was quite perplexed and kept asking her “why is this happening?” Luckily, he was better the next day.

Dad has a new nickname. It all started on Saturday, when I was on the phone with Kate S. “Dad's feeling perky,” I told her. “Did you say I feel like a turkey?” inquired Dad. “Not turkey, perky,” I said. Dad didn't get it. “PERKY, PERKY!!!” I yelled, but he still didn't get it. “Energetic!” “Energetic,” he repeated, and I thought he understood, but then he asked, “Quirky?” So now he's the Quirky Turkey.