I miss him every day...but he is especially on my mind during this time of year. He would have been 54 today.
I went out with my dear friend C for our Third Annual Celebration of Jack & Frank. Usually we go out, have a couple of beers maybe light a candle and talk a bit about our Daddies. This year, though was the first year I got D-R-U-N-K.
We had a beer at my house, then each bought a round at the bar. That could have been enough. But it didn't cross my mind to stop, especially with all the fellas buying us beers and passing over bottles of whiskey. I was having a great time and just kept slipping my beer koozie around each one of those fresh, cold beers.
We had only been out about 3 hours when we had the good sense to head home. I don't think I realized just how drunk I was until I found myself sitting in my backyard in one of our camp chairs taking off my boots and jewelry. For some reason when I am really, really drunk I can't wait to get my shoes and rings, etc. off and find them strewn about random places the next day. (I'm glad it didn't rain, those are my favorite cowboy boots!)
I woke up poor C with my drunken antics--I didn't have my keys and would have woken him up anyway stumbling into our bedroom.
I don't remember a lot of what I said to him. I think I was being silly/drunk but not mean or crazy which is a plus. I was sad that I can't dance:
And then somehow started talking about my dad and how much I miss him. I sobbed hysterically until I mercifully passed out.
Whew! I only do things like that about once a year or so--I won't drink that much for a long, long time. But, honestly--we had a blast.