Thursday, January 27, 2011

All those heartfelt conversations

Thank you for all the wonderful comments. My father is amazed that people around the globe have wished him a happy birthday. He thinks I'm making you guys up. You're like my imaginary friend Cindy. She used to do mean things to my brother and color on closet walls and melt those fat crayons in my sister's Easy Bake Oven. That chick was a pill. Issues, you know.

But no, I tell him. These people are real. Just ask Denise or David. I think they read the blog sometimes. They'll tell you.

So what if he feels like that time I insisted he ask Cindy if she'd like a red popsicle or an orange one, the thing is that he says Thank You.  Too bad for him he never figured out that Cindy liked the purple best.

S our phone call went well. Better than expected. We talked about the birds that are visiting his feeders these days. I do identification for him because, you know, looking it up in a bird book just isn't as much fun as our semi-lucid conversations.

"I've got this bird, but I'm not sure what it is. Maybe a finch?"
"Is it reddish? Brown stripey? Could be a female. Yellow?"
"I'd know a Goldfinch, I think."
"Right. Right. What color is it?"
"It likes thistle."
"Pointy beak?"
"It goes upside down."
"Oh! It's a nuthatch!"
"Whadjoo call me?"
"Pointy beak? Sharp?"
"Yes. It walks up and down the pole."
"Nuthatch. It's a nuthatch. What color is it?"
"Which one?"
"Nevermind. Any bluejays?"
"A few."
"That's nice."

We talked about the weather. They still have snow. We don't.

I even hollered at my mother. 
(That means said hello and a bunch of other stuff, but there wasn't really any shouting.)

And the subject of my very short commute didn't come up at all.
It's almost as if they'd read the blog. But of course that would be silly.
If my mom read this blog, I wouldn't be typing this.
I'd be tweeting frantically for someone to come bust me out of my room where I've been grounded.

At the end of the call, I told Dad about you guys and he made that funny noise he makes when he thinks I'm kidding around with him. And I was like No, really! They say happy birthday. And then he asked me to thank you and he whispered something to Mom that sounded like golf ball.

Seriously, thank you for the birthday wishes and all the comments - funny, warm, kind, interesting, intelligent. Thank you for coming around here so I can stand on my head and show you my panties.  Except that's not really me. That's Cindy.

It's Wednesday, right? What have you done with your week besides make an oldish man happy?


  1. That's nice. I'm a Midwesterner so I'm allowed to say that's nice.

    Yes, Lisa's Dad, we wish you a Happy Birthday!

    Pinch me if you don't believe it.

  2. I'm real, too! [My imaginary friends were CoCo and Sandy; they lived in the dirty clothes pile in the bathroom. REALLY!]

    So far this week, I have...



  3. When it gets right down to it the truly marvelous thing about good parents is their natural empathy. Our connections go far deeper and further than words.

    Did I come by and forget to wish your Dad a Happy Birthday? It was meant even if it wasn't written.

  4. Susan, he would love you. You're nice. Good nice.
    Rennratt, See! Weren't Coco and Sandy great to have around? I bet they like your fuzzy red socks.
    BSR, smooches.
    susan, not to worry, and yes, you're so right about parents and empathy. No matter how I might have fought it or still fight it, I am of these people. And I like it that way.

  5. I love the photos in this post --- especially the snow-covered hay bales. They remind me of home.

  6. the internet isn't really such a bad thing
    - sy

  7. Cindy oops I mean Lisa, glad it went well. And your last post prompted me to call my dad, so thanks.

  8. You Dad sounds so cute!

    I didn't have an invisible friend, but my little sister did. Yo-Yo (short fo Yolanda) got blamed for everything!

    Cindy sounds like a hoot!

  9. I'm changing my name to Cindy. Or UberCindy.

  10. Unfortunately I have not had the time to make even my youngish husband happy recently, wink wink. Two kids under three - uf! Looking forward to bedtimes that give us a decent amount of bedtime, too.

    This week I have made dinner every night. I'm Betty freaking Crocker over here. Once I even used the stove instead of the microwave and oven. Tonight we'll probably have frozen pizza, but obviously not the brand you bought. That's not one of the brands I eat.

  11. We're real? Shit. Being imaginary was so much easier.

  12. It's okay. HWMNBMOTI thinks you're imaginary too--ALL of you, even though some of you mail me stuff.

    Cracked up about the grounding. I have no clue if my mom has ever read, but i doubt it... hope not... I have other family who read... lots of friends from days of old who were rather shocked to find me leading the Naked World Domination Campaign. *snort*

  13. Im very happy your conversation went so well with The Parents! *whew*

  14. My dad and I used to talk about:birds, dogs, sports, my grandmother and the weather. Those were our topics.

    Your dad is adorable. And I love the recounting of your conversation. Tell your dad that we exist the way Santa exists.;-)

  15. What did he say when you told him that I consider FATHERS way better than MOTHERS? :)

  16. I'll bet your mom secretly reads your blog and loves it too much to ask you to stop.

  17. You "hollered at" your mother, but there was no shouting...
    one of the people I work with asks people to "holler at" him:
    "Holler at me, when you're done with that."
    He is from West Virginia, and speaks with a deep (and enjoyable) accent: is "holler at" used in place of "speak to" a West Virginia thing? A Southern thing?

  18. Teri - Thank you. Taking photos is one of my favorite procrastination techniques.

    SY - I agree. I've made wonderful REAL friends via the internet.

    Downith - I'm glad you were moved to phone your father! - Love, Cindy

    kkryno - I think we should get YoYo and Cindy together. They'll rule the world.

    UberCindy - I need you. There's an issue with something in the closet.

    Summer - Ha!I don't know how you do everything you do. I'm very sorry I got the lame brand of pizza. Let's have some cereal. I promise I won't grunt at you if you don't share.

    Randal - I had one of those weird out of head experiences today, but it involves the not real you and nudity so I won't write about it here. Look for an email from Cindy.

    Hart - Now I'm wondering where "he" thinks that mail comes from.

    meleah - me, too! and how are you? shoveled out? did you rock the space suit?

    LBR - Without those safe topics, I don't know what I'd talk about.

    Que - He said YOU are a very smart man. Except he whispered it so Mom wouldn't hear him.

    glasseye - She doesn't have a computer, but I like to think she'd enjoy some of it. I think she gets some of it second hand, but she never really says.

    Carson - Yes, hollering at someone is the same as speaking to them. It's a quirk of country speaking, I guess. Or maybe that's how river people talk. We're from southeastern Indiana on the Ohio.

    Other variations of holler include phoning someone and, yes, actually shouting at someone as you drive by and see them in their yard.

  19. The "golf ball" whisper mystery will haunt me all day.

    This week I did yoga twice and went to the gym. Also, wrote. Victory!


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