I appolgize for the spamming of my threads of my Dad (and some of my sister’s).
Last story of my Dad and only my Dad. You see ever since I can remember we would go to shooting ranges mostly up near (distant town) my Mom’s parents lived in. I couldn’t shoot well in the first 15 years when we went but after I got my first pair of glasses that changed. And my parents teased me about being some famous female shooter (Annie Okaley). We haven’t been to a shooting range in years (because my grandparents moved into a retirement home in 2012, and after grandma died the following summer he moved in with my aunt).
Now in Nov 2019-he was upset about something which had nothing to do with me. But he was working at getting us a new shooting range. He found out somehow that if he had gotten something he could have gotten a discount from the shooting range.
Now on this day was a potluck at the program. As I mentioned before I bring a cake for the potlucks. .if it wasn’t a Thursday (which it was)-I would normally leave the leftover cake overnights in the fridge at the program and pick it up the next time I’m in but since it was a Thursday… I didn’t do that on Thursdays. I would bring home the leftover cake and the parents and I would eat it at home.
I carried it from the building to the bus stop. And I carried it from the other bus stop near the main library to the grocery store plaza nearby where I called Dad from using the cell phone and he wasn’t too happy about picking me up. He told me I should have “just thrown it in the trash”. And when I was upset about that in the car he said at some point between the store and the house that “I"m been rude since the day I was born”. And “I never listen”. I learned from mom Dad’s bad attitude was about the shooting range during our supper since it was play night. Yet Dad hates me talking my bad days out on him and Mom and yet he did the same thing to me.
See what the crap is I have to put up with him? I’m not even mentioning his bad cooking (like who puts lemon juice in a wardof salad?). and I’m not even mentioning the time he threw lettuce across the counter. Or his over-reliance of me making salads when he cooked 5 days a week. Or Dad’s rude implication my theme park pre-pared snack would have melted.
i mean it’s nice that he wants to take me to a shooting range again. He says he want to take me to a better one then the one in this story. And some time soon. And we do like to play baseball in the summer. We only played less then one inning this summer but we’ll fix that once a bruise heals up (again). (It seems everything in this house wants to eat me-especially one drying clothing rack! /s).