Bait and Switch

My father. I’m reading David Sedaris’s new book, When You Are Engulfed in Flames, and I find myself wishing I could somehow mine my relationship with my father and make it humorous. I certainly wish I could find a way to write about today’s Father’s Day encounter without sounding both pathetic and bitter. I find my father baffling, and frustrating and exasperating and all sorts of other “ings.” I should have known better than to expect two positive Dad interactions in a row, but he lulled me in to a false sense of security. When I called him this week to ask about getting together for Father’s Day, he sounded so delighted to hear from me that I felt like a jerk for not calling him more. Not that he ever calls me, mind you, but still, I told myself I should make more of an effort.

So today I get to the restaurant to have lunch with him, and he leads off the conversation by telling me he’s registered to vote so he can vote for John McCain. Now, the man knows what my political views are, so by starting off with that little tidbit, he was pretty much asking for a fight. I refused to rise to the bait though. I mean, I did a little bit, because it is physically impossible for me to let someone saying they think Bush has done a fine job over the last eight years and they want more of the same go unchallenged. But then I said I wanted to be nice to him because it was Father’s Day, and I changed the subject. Luckily, it was grandiose Dad who showed up today, not angry and hostile Dad. Grandiose Dad is easier to deal with. But oh, all the schemes and plans he has. I hate listening to them. Most of them don’t even make sense, but if you try to question them, you’re just asking for trouble.

And then there’s the personal stuff. He asks me about my financial plans, and then acts like I’m an idiot, when my finances are in much better order than his are. In fact, the last time I saw him I told him something he wanted to do wasn’t possible, and guess what? I was right.

Then he insulted my nose. My fucking nose is fucking fine, but he felt the need to call it big and tell me it was just going to get bigger as I got older, like his. Thanks. I didn’t feel the need to point out that his eyebrows are now long enough to braid, did I?

Eh, a whole bunch of other crap happened, but I don’t even want to get into it. It wasn’t the day I’d hoped to have with my dad, but I’ve had worse meals with him. Hell, I’ve had worse meals at that restaurant. I particularly enjoyed the monster headache that this interaction spawned. By the time I got home, I was shying away from light and feeling like crap. Two Advil and one decongestant later, as I was slumped on the couch convinced that my head was going to explode and/or I was going to throw up, John suggested that I try his Excedrin Migraine pills. Those things are awesome, and quickly crushed my headache into submission. He also went to the store and got me a Coke. That settled my tummy down a bit, and made him the hero of my day. As always.