I had a wonderful start to this morning.  For once I got up at 5:30 with my dad and sat under the pourch drinking coffee with him as he smoked his first cigarette of the day. Any time spent with my dad is time well spent; I cherish every moment with him.  I love the rest of my family just as much but the bond between my father and I is special.  He was who I looked up to the most growing up.  Maybe that explains why I'm so strange... I have his gait down perfectly.  I used to follow him everywhere, mimicking every move he made.  I can tell you the left boot of the pair of combat boots he wore for nearly twenty years squeaked with each step.  I loved to watch him work on things.  Whether it be a car radio or an oil tank, I sat and watched.  My favorite was to watch him draw or build models.  He put so much care into the models.  He rarely used the provided decals ~ he painted everything on himself. The planes were often painted to resemble a specific plane ~ he built me a B~17 once that was painted exactly like the one our friend Fred flew during the second world war.  The first one I got to help him build was a P~40...

Oops.  Wrong turn onto Memory Lane... lol.  So this morning...

After we woke my mom and brothers at 6:00, mom joined us for yet another cup of coffee and cigarettes for the smokers.  My dad found a cicada in his boot.  So I sat on the pourch with a cup of coffee in one hand, a confused cicada in the other.  One wing was still wet so I let him crawl all over me as it dried.  Just as I finished my coffee he was ready and flew off towards the nearby tree.  I'm sure later today I will hear him on a branch somewhere, stating his territory, trying to convince the ladies to come check out his stick.