Pop

Gotta call from Critter this morning.

Pop isn't doing to well. She thinks she will be able to bring him home in the next couple of days, but they are calling in Hospice to give her a extra hand.

Over the years I've wondered to myself why Critters Pop and my Daddy never got together. In a lot of ways they were so much alike. I think they could have come up with some pretty cool shit if they had. Pop was a carpenter by trade, and saying he was "good" at what he did is a big understatement. Pop was a perfectionist, at everything...

He was also funny. Oh I don't mean a comedian, he never acted like he thought he was being funny. Would even get (or act like) he was pissed when we'd laugh at whatever happened to be going on at the moment. Yes, I was the 's' in "Little Shits". But it was hard to not laugh when he had her cornered in the kitchen (not as a little kid, no.. we were in our early 20's here) telling her how unorganized she was because her dried beans were all still in the plastic bags they were bought in. They needed to be in coffee cans... labeled. Or the kitchen floor had some crumbs on it... no shit, we had 3 kids under the age of 5 running around. He'd end up giving us that look (which MY dad was really good at), shaking his head and walking out the back door. Yes, she would end up with coffee cans... even if he came over and did it himself!

Since he's been sick there have been moments of silliness tho, that makes me wonder how often he would do those things.. then maybe go back to his house and get a good ole grin on his face.

Anyway, all day today I've had thoughts of Pop through the years. Most all of them just flashes of images and feelings, nothing really wants to congeal into a single thought that could be put into words.

Critter your in my thoughts, and Sissy better come through for ya. I am close enough to her... you say the word and that INDIAN CHEST BEAT could happen before the 25th.