Sunday, June 19, 2011
He has a soft spot in his heart for crows.
He has a quiet, subtle sense of humour that cracks me up.
His idea of cooking is throwing every left-over from the fridge into the frying pan... all at once... almost always mixed with scrambled eggs.
But he can make a masterpiece of a pizza.
He taught me to ride my first big kid bike, how to get up on one waterski, took me for my first driving lesson (it didn't go well, but at least the car came back to the driveway fully intact), taught me all about the colour wheel, composition and perspective, and tried to teach me to draw, yet I still can't draw a stick man to save my life. Thanks for trying, Dad.
He is the most patient person I know.
When I was little, he used to set up a small easel next to his so I could paint with him.
He's a chronic whistler. He gets that from his dad. He listens to music as he paints, forever whistling along. The best part is when he fills in melody gaps in songs with his own little improvisations. It's really quite endearing.
He has an impressive knowledge of music and knows good music when he hears it...always open to what is new to his ears. What we listened to when I was young has had a strong influence on what I listen to now.
He gets giddy and child-like whenever he gets to purchase a new techy kind of gadget. Then he will spend hours meticulously learning every detail from the instruction manual.
There is no one on this planet I feel safer with to drive me from point A to point B in the snow.
I love you so much, Dad. Happy Father's Day!
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
June is blur of activity. One more week of craziness and then I can slowly settle into the quiet dreamy glow of summer. It's piano recital time. Not my favourite time. I feel like a nervous parent to each of my students as they prepare for their performances on Saturday.
These flowers remind me of all the smiley happy faces of family and friends that will make up our audience...faces peeping between other faces, eager to see their child walk to the piano, place their hands on the keys and share with everyone what they've learned this year.
Ooohh, I can't wait until it's over. It doesn't seem to get any easier each year, and I am learning to accept that. I am anxious because I am invested in these kids...and that's a good thing. It's well worth the butterflies.