an ode to my father (part une)

okay, not so much an ode. because, i really don't know exactly what an 'ode' is. and i know i could phone any one of my thousand friends in english and find out, but i'm lazy and they're long-winded.

so about my daddy. he's fun. he likes to cook, build model trains, and sing cyndi lauper. he likes to give me money and make me not tell my mom. sometimes he says bad words, but usually it's because there is water in the basement or the garage. so that's understandable. my daddy also likes to drink wine. but he's not a lush.

my daddy took me to pete yorn in toronto because he loves me. my daddy drives with me from saskatoon to ottawa, then ottawa to saskatoon because he loves me. my daddy buys me pictures of new york for my bedroom because he knows i love new york, and he loves me. my daddy bought me a new douvet cover for my bed to match the walls he painted in my room for me, because he loves me. and my daddy gives me big hugs and kisses because he loves me.

and i love my daddy.