A Post for The Dads

I'm photoless today due to some technical obstacles (which just won't do). So enjoy a little Cary Grant while I discuss some important men around these parts.

A very Happy Fathers Day to some pretty terrific Dads and Grandfathers. We'll be celebrating the weekend with:

Big Poppa Daddy - He's a diaper-changing, slide-riding, piggy-backing, dress-up-doll-playing, grocery-shopping, scotch-drinking, bbqing, pretend-prince-dancing sort of Daddy. I can't imagine our lives (or sanity) without him. He may not be the worlds best blog-reader but he's always there to support me and the kiddies (and after all, that's how the things I get to blog about get done around here). xoxoxo

The Daddy Original/Grampa - He's a trike-pushing-with-donut-detouring, chasing-after, squeal-provoking, roller-coaster-memory-making, book-recommending, ITV-providing, Dora-and-Webkinz-enabling sort of Daddy and Grampa. He is the worlds best blog-reader (and occasional topic) even on the knitting/sewing/crafting post days. And now he's upping his game and going from reader to contributor. So here's another new knit reference to enjoy, courtesy of my Dad.

From River Thieves (Crummey, Michael - 2001 - Anchor - p.76):

"John Senior sat with his pipe and knitted twine to
mend the salmon nets or whittled blindly at sticks of wood..."

And the book is also a great last minute gift recommendation if you know an East Coast-history -loving-Canadian-Literature-Reading sort of Dad!)

The Maestro - He's a music-composing, golf-obsessing, tummy-tickling, ice-cream-loving, question-asking, couch-cuddling kind of Dziadzie (polish for grandpa). He is also a never-turned-on-a-computer kind of guy, but that's sort of a refreshing thing to find in this crazy techno-world. I'll print him a copy.

Hope you have a great weekend with the special fellas in your life!


You Are Old, Father William from 'Alice In Wonderland'


'YOU are old, Father William,' the young man said,
'And your hair has become very white:
And yet you incessantly stand on your head--
Do you think, at your age, it is right?'

'In my youth, Father William replied to his son,
'I feared it might injure the brain;
But, now that I'm perfectly sure I have none,
Why, I do it again and again.'

'You are old,' said the youth. 'as I mentioned before,
And have grown most uncommonly fat;
Yet you turned a back-somersault in at the door--
Pray, what is the reason of that?'

'In my youth,' said the sage, as he shook his grey locks,
'I kept all my limbs very supple
By the use of this ointment--one shilling the box--
Allow me to sell you a couple?'

'You are old,' said the youth, 'and your jaws are too weak
For anything tougher than suet:
Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak--
Pray how did you manage to do it?

'In my youth,' said his father, 'I took to the law,
And argued each case with my wife;
And the muscular strength, which it gave to my jaw,
Has lasted the rest of my life.'

'You are old,' said the youth, 'one would hardly suppose
That your eye was as steady as ever;
Yet you balanced an eel on the end of your nose--
What made you so awfully clever?'

'I have answered three questions, and that is enough,'
Said his father; 'don't give yourself airs!
Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff?
Be off, or I'll kick you downstairs!'

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