Dad called me about 2 weeks ago on a random, sunny Tuesday afternoon and nonchalantly asked:
Dad:: Lauren… are you sitting down?
Me:: Uh oh, what’s happened? Who’s pregnant, tattooed or moving away? Or… did you buy another boat or set of golf clubs at a yard sale again?
For about 6 seconds every time I hear my dad’s voice, I always fear really good news or really bad news. But then, the lightbulb goes off and he gets me every time. Every time. His perfectly timed dry humor has out-done and out-witted me again. And everyI chuckle, roll my eyes, and grow a new kind of appreciation for his un-relentless surprises.
Dad:: I’ve got some business on the West Coast –– Long Beach, to be specific –– for a couple weeks and would love to see you at some point during the trip. Can you clear up one of your weekends for your old man?
Me:: [jumping up and down in a kid-at-christmas-like fashion] SURE!!!!!! What dates?
Dad:: February some time. But I’ll call ya next week to confirm and we can go from there. Everything else going OK? Need money? Where are you working these days?
Me:: Nope, I’m doing well. Can’t wait to see ya!
LOVE. MY. DAD. Between the beers, seagulls, beach days, lunch outings, hobo run-ins, coffee stops, and boating adventures, we made up for being 3,000 miles apart.
