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Wednesday, August 20, 2008

Is my father a good Catholic bookie?

From the moment I announced my decision to have Lapband surgery, I have been fortunate and blessed to have lots of folks in my daily life sitting on the sidelines cheering me on. I was never at a loss for encouraging words, compliments and kudos. Well, except at home. Carmen doesn't say a word. Toni will respond when asked and Vince is just oblivious. Perhaps the old adage is true--they don't even see me. I wonder--would they be able to pick me out in a crowd? I suppose if I was carrying a bowl of pasta and meatballs they would.

As for my father--that man is a whole other story. He loves my Lapband and tells everyone about it. Everyone. Cashiers. Mail carriers. Neighbors. Random people who hold the door for him. Telephone solicitors. Political campaign workers. Yep, just about anyone he sees or talks to. Last week at mass, Pete, our usher friend, complimented me on my weight loss and asked how I did it. The only reason why he didn't know about it yet is because my father and I hadn't seen him in quite some time. Believe me, if my father would have seen him, he would have told him. But, Pete beat him to it--he asked. Before I could get a word out, my father told him "she had weight loss surgery, she still some more weight to lose". I guess he takes the whole 9th commandment (do not lie) very seriously. Was it his way to protect me from breaking it right there in church? Was he worried I'd tell Pete the usher that I went on a diet and didn't want to lose one more pound? That man raised me. He should know very well that I have the fear of God and church and anyone remotely involved with any vocation within the Catholic religion. I wouldn't lie to a church usher. Hell, I wouldn't lie to a church mouse. In addition to his love of my Lapband, my weight loss is his favorite spectator sport. My father takes great care to keep score, maintain records and make predictions on outcomes of my weight loss. The man could see me everyday for a week and he asks me the same questions-- "are you still loosing?" or "how much off today?" or "how much are you supposed to lose now?" Makes me wonder if he takes bets in the mailroom of his condo building on my weight loss. Or, maybe he runs a number ring. He could be an Irish bookie (learned the ropes from my Italian uncles)...using my daily weight to book the bets. You just never know with him. Maybe he's not saying the rosary every morning during his "do not disturb" hour. That might be his bookie time.
God Bless my father.....


Jody V said...

You are a very lucky lady!

Gerry said...

Your dad is so adorable! My dad use to be my incentive in loosing weight. I remember when we were sitting on the porch one evening and he asked if I seen one of his neighbors. He proceeded to say, "Boy did she put on the weight! She's almost as big as you!" God, I loved the man.


Eileen, The Mayor, or Francine, depending on my mood and night of the week. said...

There are plenty of good Irish bookies out there. My grandmother was one of them.
Hey, she had 9 kids, my grandfather died when her youngest, my aunt (Ginny's mother) was just five days old. They didn't have welfare or social security back then. She did what she had to.
She died with a house in Fox Chapel though, bought it from winnings playing the Easter number. 283,I think.
Funny, you writing about your dad. Just spent the weekend with mine and am witing about it to post later today.

Thank you for making my day yesterday. I received my medal and prize. Where do you get your energy?
There have been a few days since Dan died that I have felt I couldn't go on. Yesterday was one of them. My prize from you put a much needed smile on my face
Hey, todays another day. It can only get better. (Can't get much worse)
I'm sure I'll feel better after I drink my chai iced tea with a splash of lemonade.