I went home to visit the 'rents last weekend. It was a fantastic weekend. I took my mother on a "surprise" outing that included dancing and discussion of that thing you do in the kitchen... I believe it's called cooking? Anyway, she had a ball. I was glad I was able to do that. The timing worked out perfectly.
I also picked up Blue for the next six weeks. I'm still in the honeymoon phase with this dog who adores me so much, but rest assured... I'll be wanting to get back down to a one-dog household asap come mid-July.
So since it was a mom-dominated weekend, I didn't get to see my dad much. We chatted every now and then, but my dad is pretty much a solitary silent figure during the day. He enjoys his books. He enjoys his cigars. But conversation? You have to make an effort to interrupt him to make him talk. Which he does good-naturedly for sure... but when there's swing dancing and roller derby and all sorts of cable channels (Animal Planet FTW!!) to compete with my attention... Well, my dad gets his peace and quiet.
One thing my dad ritualistically does when I come home is send home a care package with me. It's usually filled with some alcoholic beverage, sometimes a snack that I particularly enjoy, one time there was a cool shower curtain that he found, etc. Stuff like that. My dad's love language is acts of service. Gifting me with what I need (and sometimes what he knows I want but do not buy for myself) is what he does.
I'm not going to lie. I love those care packages. Love them.
So when I got home on Sunday and immediately became irritated with the state in which my house was left by the boy (ahem, how hard is it to do ALL the dishes and not just the ones you used?) I dug into the care package eagerly to see what fun things came home with me this time.
In the bag, I found not one, not two, not even three, but FOUR different types of dog treats. And that was all. Four kinds. Dog treats. As in, things I can not use. Gifts for the dog. Not just a dog, apparently... the grandchild that has taken over all tokens of affection.
It's just such a rough life, competing with pit bulls for affection all the time. Or maybe just Blue. Because since he's been back, I've had a person come out of her house and shout to get my attention over the iPod I was listening to - just to tell me Blue is gorgeous. I had some people driving by stop and put their car in reverse to pull up next to me and say the same thing. I have numerous other dog walkers stop to pay Blue homage while ignoring Casey.* It's a rough life, man.
*Although, to be fair, maybe that's the growling.