So when I come home for the night and my mom is upstairs in bed or she isn't, it really doesn't make much difference. But for some reason, it does. I have a thing with empty houses. I feel suddenly so free and excited the fact that I'm home alone, and so I do things that I could do anyway even if I weren't home alone, so it's kind of funny but anyway....I was looking through some old photo albums all night and came across a ton of pictures that made me smile a real smile.
Love this photo. It's me and my dad messin' around at a car rental place in California. He used to take me and my brother on trips there a lot. And looking at this, thinking back, I could say that in my childhood, my single most favorite thing in the entire world was spending time with my dad. I would get so so excited to spend weekends with him. I absolutely loved being around him. For some reason, amongst all that went on within our family, I felt so cozy and safe around my dad. He could tell me anything would be okay and I would instantly believe him. He was so fun. I have unforgettable, wonderful memories of his house in Midvale. He would pick us up and we would always go to Burger King just up the road from his house. Then we would get to his house and watch Ripleys Believe It Or Not, and then get in his hot tub. Then we would come in and have cereal at his kitchen booth and draw and color. Then we would sit on his front porch and watch cars. Then I would go to bed and watch disney channel all night because there was a T.V. in my room. The cereal and hot tub process was always repeated in the morning. It's really not about what we did though. It's that lovely feeling I got when I was going to do something with my dad. It produced excitement the way nothing else did. He provided an outlet in my life for me to be happy and have a good time as a kid.