And then I got to thinking...

I write a little bit each week, I mostly do it because writing my thoughts down is the best kind of therapy for my soul. Most of what I write, I never post because it is either too obstinate, too raw or worse yet, too sentimental. This is my blog though, my own little macrocosm. I get to say what ever I want. Give my opinion on whatever comes to mind. Speak on what ever fluky or inadvertent topic I would like. I don't usually have anything too profound to say, but, I do enjoy saying it nonetheless.

Today I have been at my mom's for what seems like eternity waiting to go out for a night on the town with her and my two sisters, of course we were suppose to leave an hour ago. My one sister hasn't even showered yet and my other sister? She will show up eventually. (Tom refers to this as Valerga time...) I love spending time with the girls. We are all a bit crazy and our time together is precious. So while I wait I write.

I have nothing of importance to write about today. I have been listening to Bob Dylan a lot lately and I just have to say how wonderful he is. He is brilliant and I think he and I are soul mates. Not the marrying kind, of course, I am already married, sorry Bob. The thinking alike kind. He has always been my favorite ever since I was about four years old. Perhaps because he reminds me so much of my dad. (They are truly soul mates.) When I was little we would drive to San Fransisco, my dad's hometown, and would listen to The Eagles... Who I absolutely still adore (heart songs, everyone of them), The Doors and Bob Dylan. Others as well but those are the ones that stuck with me. What a hip dad, I know. I think I got most of my thinking from my dad. He is the one that got me addicted to architecture and interior design. No, he is a lawyer but he has an appreciation for the finer, more exciting interests. When I was little we would go for Sunday drives and my dad would take us into neighborhoods just to point out what was wrong with them. Tom says it is my dad's fault I am such a house/ neighborhood snob. Funny, every time my dad gets mad at me and tells me I am killing Tom because I insist on living in nice homes it never, until just now, occurred to me that it is my dad's own doing. All the "Kids, you never want to live in this kind of neighborhood or have neighbors like these..." must have really sunk in, (see dad, I did listen to you after all.) Hmm. Good one.

So this post started out about Bob Dylan, actually, it started out about my sisters and mom. Wait, no... it started out about how I really don't have much to say and then went from the girls to Bob to now, my dad. So I will finish it with my dad. Thank you dad, for introducing me to the best kind of music in the world. I remember you explaining in detail the concerts of The Eagles, Bob and The doors while we would listen to them. It may be because of you that I love music so much. Also, thanks for taking me to every Parade of Homes from when I was ten years old to now. Thank you for training me on what homes are socially acceptable... And most of all, thanks for that time you came to my high school when I was a senior to meet with me and my counselor. I am sorry I was so loutish and I didn't appreciate the time you took to try and help me straighten out my behavior and graduate on time. And for every other reason I can not name, you are a great dad. I love you.

No comments: