Daddy's Reading!!!

So, my dad has read my blog. (Hi, Daddy!) Panic. Big Gulp. Hurl. Vomit. Puke. Pass out. Shoot me. DIE. Those were the thoughts/actions/desires that I had when I found out that my wonderful, “love me no matter what sort of crack pot I decide to be on any given day” papa was reading the things I was writing. Gardening included. WHAAAAA! He has yet to address the issue with me, and I am okay with that, happy to settle for the ridiculous amount of blushing a deep crimson that occurs when we are in the room together, me knowing he knows, and he, well, he just knowing and not speaking a word about it! I am not sure if he is aware that I am privy to it all, I don’t think so. He has told a certain source that he is “disappointed” in me. In the language I sometimes use, in the topics I sometimes choose to run with. He DID say the writing wasn’t bad. Strangely enough, that makes me feel a bit better.

You see, I was raised in a tiny town in South Carolina, where one was afraid to even THINK bad thoughts or phrases, much less say them out loud. Decorum was key. We were not allowed to know the words, what they meant, how to use them properly in a sentence, so on and so forth. Unfortunately, I always did, and, given my love for the English language, tended to experiment with them, and other things, from time to time. I just hoped my family would never get to know me in that way.

After some of the ridiculous things that I have put my family through in the past, one would imagine that this would be pretty low on the list of things I need to fix. Still, though I’m over 30 (quite a bit over), I still feel the need to have my daddy imagine me pure, innocent, and most of all, FULL of decorum. I want him to think that I dance around in fluffy, white gossamer, singing the songs of God and the angels, never once tainting my mind or mouth with foulness. I’m working on it dad... Thank you for loving me no matter what, and know that I am trying really hard to get to that place in my life where you can be totally proud of the daughter you raised so well.