As I was thinking about flavors for this blogging marathon, I noticed a trend that could definitely be linked back to members of my family. So let’s start at the top with the head honcho.
This is my Dad.
He also looks like Bruce Willis (or if my Dad were talking he’d say, “No, I don’t look like Bruce Willis, Bruce Willis looks like me)”.
Way more “Armageddon” Bruce Willis than “Moonlighting” Bruce Willis.
When I think about my Dad, the following comes to mind:
The man loves to golf. All the time. Even in the rain. That’s him and my Mom at St. Andrews in Scotland. I think he was crying tears of golfing euphoria under those shades.
Thanksgiving is his favorite holiday of all time. I think it’s the abundance of food, near certainty of an apple dessert (his weak spot), and football that tip the scales over all other holidays. Look at him; face of a man, eyes of a kid on Christmas morning…over a plate of Thanksgiving wonderment.
I think if my dad could do it all over again he’d choose “lead marine biologist in search of the Loch Ness monster” as a career. I can thank him for my extensive knowledge of that famous Scottish loch as we’ve watched every Discovery Channel special on the subject. I always figured if the monster was found it would be breaking news (not saved for a documentary airing in the future) but I always crossed my fingers kept the dream alive, Dad. Maybe that newest TV special would deliver the exciting news!
The drink of choice in my family. He’ll tell you there’s a 50/50 toss up about moving to London in regards to Bloody Marys. On one hand, you can get Bloody Mary flavored chips over there (and who wouldn’t want a delicious alcoholic beverage interpreted into junk food?!?) but on the other hand, he still has yet to have a good bloody slide across the bar to him in a pub. In fact, my sister and I have been known to bring over his favorite Bloody mixer for him when we visit. He texted me the photo above as a “thank you” for a recent delivery. The care that went into that single bloody will never be understood or fully appreciated.
Anytime we’re out and he orders a chocolate malt it’s always followed with, “…with extra malt.” One time, we were at our favorite custard stand in my hometown ordering sundaes for the whole family after dinner and it went something like this:
Dad: “2 jimmy sundaes with extra jimmies, 4 scotch laddies with extra scotch, a chocolate malt with extra malt…” (looks at my grandfather)
Grandfather: “A turtle sundae…(pause) with extra turtle.”
We like to go big or go home.
So you’ve met my Dad. Here’s his ice cream; Malted Milk Ball…extra malt.