day in the life of dad

This was what my dad was up to on Saturday.

6:00am- Dad wakes up to feed Muggles then returns to bed.

10:20am- Dad places a blue Obama bumper sticker on the blue pick-up.

10:30am- Dad meets me in the truck at the halfway point of my jog.

10:35am- Dad stops jogging to compile a small pile of garbage composed mostly of shredded plastic bags. He will return to pick this up at some point in the near future

11:00am- Jog is finished. Dad overhears Mom's plan to take Jon and I to the apple orchard. Estimated time of departure- as soon as possible.

11:05am- Dad decides he will accompany us to the orchard, but first...he will get a 'ten-minute' haircut.

11:30am- Dad is dropped off at the blue pick-up by me. He recounts a recent lecture he attended by a Rwandan refugee. It is an incredibly moving story. I momentarily feel as though being late does not matter.

11:45am- Dad must achieve an unscheduled haircut in the time it takes me to deposit one check. He is driving a separate vehicle, hoping to rendezvous outside the barbershop.

11:50am- Mom calls Dad to assure him that it is not possible for him to return from the orchard by 1pm. He feels cheated but, as he is still in a barber chair, is powerless to stop us.

12:40pm- We arrive back from the orchard to find Dad placing a white Obama bumper sticker on the white pick-up. The matching? No coincidence. Dad suggests that between two planned horserides, we jump off a rope swing fixed to the underside of the I-94 bridge over the Black River. I question him on the relation of this rope swing to things I have failed to jump off in the past. He assures me this is a 'step down' from those things. I agree.

12:45pm- Mom confesses to Dad that her achilles tendon is inexplicably sore. After a full line of professional questioning, Dad wraps and ices the foot expertly.

1:00pm- 5 guests show up to ride my parents' horses. Dad must saddle the horses and host a horseride with several novice riders. Dad does not let the angst of beginners get to him. The ride is a resounding success. Casualties are limited to a banged crotch and a sideache.

2:30pm- Dad drives the two youngest riders home and stops by the hospital to pick up recuperative trappings for Mom's leg.

3:30pm- Dad fits Mom with a walking cast. He agrees with Mom that horseriding would be considered 'taking it easy.' They are the only two people in the world who believe this. I tell Dad there is no time to jump off the rope. 'No time' is not a phrase my dad understands. He asks for a reprieve.

4:00pm- Dad folds a load of laundry.

4:15pm- Dad speed reads Entertainment Weekly. This publication accounts for 90% of his exposure to pop culture.

5:00pm- Mom and Dad go on a horseride totaling 7 riders, including Jon and myself. They rejoice at the successful cramming of Mom's enormous foot into a stirrup. This ride is also a resounding success. Two near wipe-outs. No official casualties.

6:30pm- Dad believes that we still have time to jump off the rope. I agree, only because I have narrowly averted catastrophe on the horseride. The cards seem stacked in my favor.

6:35pm- Dad feeds Muggles.

6:45pm- We pick up one of Dad's buddies to join us. Mom and Jon are along for the ride.

7:00pm- Dad leads us through someone's backyard to arrive at the jumping off point. He swims into the freezing water to retrieve the rope. He pretends it is merely cool.

7:05pm- We take turns jumping off progressively higher rocks. I enter Dad's world for a brief moment. Each feat provoking another, bolder feat. Dad proceeds to outdo even himself by climbing to the highest possible jumping off point, rope slack in his hands. I almost pee my pants (his shorts, to be exact) watching him. It is moments like these that make it difficult to think of my dad as a human being.

9:00pm- Dad watches 'The Diving Bell and the Butterfly' with us while waiting for dinner to come out of the oven.

11:00pm- Dad must call my sister in California to recommend the movie. Unable to contact her, he must call her husband with the same recommendation.

11:15pm- Dad picks up a letter off the kitchen table asking for a charitable donation. He will donate when Mom is not looking.

11:30pm- I confess to Dad that I cut my toe in the morning and it looks infected. He pulls out the special goggles and agrees.

11:45pm- Dad presents me with antibiotics left over from Mom's ingrown toenail.

12:00am- Dad heads to bed with Mom and Muggles, musing on things left undone.

12:05am- Dad and Muggles snore in beautiful harmony.