And now for something belated

I'm late on this but it happens. Father's Day is a weird thing for me these days, considering my father has been dead for a few years now. The filterless co-worker said something like, "I didn't think I'd see you tonight" and when I looked blankly at her she followed up with, "Well, you take your father's birthday and his death day off so..."

And it's true, I used to take FD off, too but I stopped a couple of years ago because a) there are people who still have their fathers around who should get to be with them if they want, b) whatever year this stopped they put up the schedule super early so I couldn't request it off, and c) so long as I leave before the rush of people who forgot, I'm okay.

I try not to be that person who goes on and on about "Tell your dad you love him while you still can!" because that's annoying as hell and also not always relevant to everyone. Some people have perfectly valid reasons for not talking to their fathers. Some people are going to be surprised by how much they regret not taking the five minutes on a Sunday in June to call theirs and ask how things are. It's not my place to dictate which camp someone is going to fall into, especially when those camps do occasionally converge.

So we'll go with my usual jumbled mess of thoughts on my dad. When he died and people came for the wake (sorta?) it was interesting to hear the differences in stories told. If you were about my age or younger, you probably spoke of being a little intimidated or afraid of him. Of course, that's probably because you were doing something stupid like stealing the car and driving without a license or jumping off the roof and running off to get high in someone else's stolen car.
If you were his age or even ten-twenty years on either side, you thought he was funny. Because, y'know, he was. And you didn't have to answer to him when you did something stupid. :P It makes a big difference.

It makes me a little sad that I only get the same three stories told back to me about Dad, but at least they were good ones. I'm sure my brother has different ones, but I'm going to think of ones that are a little outside the box.

When we were younger, Dad would take the boy and I over to Porter Gaud, the private school in the neighborhood, and he'd have us run around their track. I don't know if the boy hated it as much as I did, but I don't think I've ever been all that sporty. It didn't help that I'm a girl and these running sessions seemed to always happen on the hottest weekends of the year, so the guys are down to their skimpy 80's shorts and I'm dying of heatstroke, trying to work up the energy to make it to the water fountain that only dribbles water. We'd come home, exhausted (which was likely part of the point) and covered in orange dust from the track. After awhile, before we came home, I'd have thrown in the towel because not sporty, and I'd sit near Dad and listen to him encourage the boy to make it another lap.

This was probably about the same time frame that he ran from our house out to Citadel Mall (if you're local, you can figure out the distance) and it was hot as hell and Mom followed in the car. I never did figure out why he did that, just that he did and I thought he was crazy, but I was still proud that he did it.

I can only remember my dad going to church a handful of times. He went for big events for the boy and I (more of my stuff since the boy stopped going much earlier) like first communions and confirmations, and once when we were at my grandmother's. I don't remember why we all went, I just remember that we all did. It was probably the first time I went to a non-Catholic church for anything and I have no real memory of it other than it was summer but it wasn't a million degrees when we got out.
The trick to that is that almost all of my memories of my grandmother take place in the summer because that's where our summer vacations wound up.

I have vague recollections of him going out to Country Day to coach baseball but nothing really concrete.

And then there's a much later memory, from sometime after we moved into our last house with him. (I say last like I remember more than two, right? I was a baby for anything before those.) Mom and Sean had just blown up over something and Dad and I were just kind of watching TV without really watching, and he shrugged and said they were an awful lot alike, prone to explosions and theatrics and that we were better at worrying on the inside. And then we went back to our Simpsons or whatever and that was that.

I miss him but I'm also thankful that he was the kind of father you do miss when he's gone.

Whoops.

Egads, I'm tired. Where did that come from? I dunno. Anyway, this is my loverly Lena. She's a MyAG #26 (currently going by the Truly Me name) and she comes with a fun backstory that I will attempt to keep relatively short and simple.


I've been wanting a 26 for awhile, but sometime in the last three years, she began talking to me as dolls do. She had a name and once I have name or a personality, I begin to legitimately think about buying the doll. (Well, AGs, anyway.) But last summer was out because of the move. Various things kept conspiring against me and it was okay because enh, whatcha gonna do.

Then this latest round of Jill's dolls appeared and #26 was part of it. Surely that was a sign, right? I mean, clearly the gods have nothing better to do than cater to doll whims.

So I sat in Mattel's stupid waiting room and it never updated to let me in until 26 had been sold out for hours. I wrote them a frosty email and they replied with too bad, so sad, try again because we restocked. Only, y'know, fat lot of good that did me since 26 either never restocked or was gone, again.

I sulked. And whined and bitched and moaned and was generally unpleasant, really. I did try and do most of that in my head but some did spillover elsewhere.

Then people kept finding the links were still available and dolls could be ordered for pretty cheap. But things would come and go out of stock and it wasn't terribly reliable. I tried repeatedly and failed.

Until the great and powerful z sent me an email and as soon as I read it, I ran to my computer and tried it. Huzzah! I could order her! So I did. And then I waited to see if they would cancel the order.

But they didn't! And she shipped out pretty fast and arrived here on Saturday. Her delivery date wasn't until Tuesday, so I was a little surprised.

I took her out of her box yesterday and was pleasantly surprised to find nothing wrong with her. I wasn't expecting it, but you never know, right? She does have some wonky curls but Cece can talk to her about that. Her body is also orange (Oompa Loompa orange) and that's going to limit her fashion choices considerably, but since her invoice had her listed at around $37 I'm not complaining.


She came with the Soft as Snow outfit and I like the sweater and the leggings, but I will never understand that skirt. She also came with the Rainy Day Coat. Bonus points awarded for me not having either outfit. Huzzah!


I thought she'd look cute in this outfit, as a lot of people were putting their #62's in it but I don't think it's doing her any favors. Back to the drawing board!

Quick review of the outfit: Love the shoes. I could easily slide the elastic onto the bottom of the shoe, slide it onto the foot, and then put the elastic over her heel. They're perfect, really. The shorts bunch up in the crotch and it's weird and distracting. Meh. The hood actually is a hoodie and works, which means I probably should have rethought this for a curly haired girl. We'll probably do a real review when I find someone it doesn't wash out.