My Dad came for a short visit this past weekend. As always, he stayed exactly 3 days. His motto has always been that houseguests, like fish, go bad after three days.
We managed to pack a lot into a short amount of time. We ate tacos, and talked for hours, never missing a beat even when the power went out.
We drank beer, ate burgers and turtle balls, made friends, got rowdy, and hugged men in kilts.
We sat in the sun, drank more beer, and made more friends.
We ate breakfast in a cafe surrounded by walls covered in planes, pilots, and memorabilia of all things airborne. We drank coffee and reminisced.
We spent equal amounts of time firing fully automatic weapons and tiptoeing through tulips.
We ate guacamole off chips made of bacon, drank wine (drank wine…drank wine), played silly games and laughed until our faces hurt.
I do love the memories, but man do I miss that fish.