Father’s Day

Of course, Father’s Day was mostly spent with mom, b/c that’s the way it is in our family. I took her to a museum and bought her a soft serve ice cream, the latter of which made her extremely happy. She was the only parent I could drag to the Brooklyn Museum to see the Murakami exhibit (Murakami did the Kanye West “Graduation” album cover and does a weird art where fine arts and commercialism meet, apparently. I don’t know that I got what the point was, but I definitely loved the weird, chaotic, cataclysmic stuff like this the most:

rather than this stupid stuff (no offense if you like it):

It’s the type of art Dad HATES so he ended up staying home to make us dinner. I know, we’re terrible, but we had a lovely dinner anyway.

Today, I called to see how he’s doing. He had his crown replaced, but he was distressed for having lost his glasses at the dentist office. I told him I lose things like my glasses all the time, lots of people do, but he was still feeling discouraged, b/c of course, he was never one of those people in the past. And I asked, referring to the crown-implementing procedure, “Are you hurt, Dad? Does anything hurt” And he said, “Only my ego.”

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