My step-dad died of a heart attack in August 2007. I miss him.

I’ve avoided writing about missing him because I feared it would make my mom sad. I hope it doesn’t; maybe it will make her smile.

My mom married my step-dad when I was very young (around 6 years old), so I have only the faintest and vaguest of memories from before my step-dad was in my life. My real dad stayed a very close part of my life — we all continued to live in my hometown — so my step-dad didn’t replace my real dad, he just supplemented him. Most kids have one dad, (real or step). I and my brother were lucky in that we had the benefits of two dads.

My step-dad was a kind and generous man. Patient and helpful. Funny and smart. He definitely wasn’t the stereotypical step-parent, and that’s why I call him my “step-dad” rather than my “step-father.”

He was a hunter, (mostly white-tail deer), and he was often in the woods early in the morning during October, November, and December. I went with him occasionally, but I was never a good early morning person.

He was a cook. I absolutely loved his venison, and his sweets during the Christmas season put many pounds on everyone. His love of cooking is part of the reason why he got into the restaurant business — his main career was teaching heating and air conditioning repair at the local community college.

He was an occasional drinker. He’d get good and buzzed sometimes at parties and such, but he was a good drunk. Drink made him even funnier, and silly.  He didn’t drink often, and his being tipsy never troubled or embarrassed me.

He was not a dancer. Oh he’d try. He’d get out on the dance floor and jig like he loved it, but good lord the man just didn’t have rhythm.

He was always there for me when I needed him. Between him and my real dad, I never had a lack of a good male role model in my life. Having two good men in my life meant I could always find advice when I needed it.

I think about my step-dad from time to time, just during normal daily life, and there’s still a pang of sadness knowing he’s gone. I’d love to give him just one more hug.

Bullgrit

Yesterday, me and my boys were in Target together, picking up items we each needed. The Calfgrits had some saved up allowance for toys, and I had to prepare for my upcoming workout regimen.

Calfgrit9 was buying a small Lego Halo set, and Calfgrit5 was buying a new Bionicle. On the cashier aisle conveyor belt, I put a pair of weight lifting gloves, a workout mat, and a pair of yoga blocks.

When the cashier girl got to my items, she commented, “Interesting choice for Valentine gifts. Or did your wife specifically ask for this?” She was smiling mischievously.

I was kind of taken aback. First, just because I’m buying something on Valentine’s Day, doesn’t mean the something is a gift for my Valentine. Second, why the assumption I’m buying this stuff for my wife, instead of just for me?

I explained, “It’s just coincidental that I’m buying this on Valentine’s Day.”

“Oh,” she replied and finished ringing up the sale.

After the transaction, as we were walking away with our bagged purchases, I thought more about the girl’s comment. Is there something inherently female about what I bought that made her think it was for my wife? I mean, weight lifting gloves? Surely lifting heavy weights is not considered a feminine activity.

A workout mat? These things are in every gym I’ve ever been to, (including my old martial arts gym), used by both genders — I’ve done sit ups and push ups on these things many times. Maybe if this one was pink, I could see assuming it was for a woman. But this one’s a dark green.

The yoga blocks? Yeah, I’ll admit that I tend to first think of yoga as a woman’s activity, but really, it’s not exclusively for women.

After thinking about the situation for another minute, I came to the idea that maybe she just thought I looked in great shape already, and therefore didn’t need workout gear. Yeah, that’s good.

Or maybe she looked at me and figured I was in such sloppy shape that I’d never bother with a workout.

No. She definitely had to think I was buff enough, and didn’t need the equipment. I’m satisfied with that explanation. It makes the most sense to me.

Bullgrit

Usually, this is the day when I’d post some random photograph, but I just found something hilarious I have the urge to share. So instead of spamming all my friends with an email link to this, I’ll just post it here:

Bullgrit

It snowed last night, for the second time this winter. At least this was a “good” snow — the roads are clear. The grass and trees are all white, but the roads and sidewalks are all just wet, not iced and coated over with white.

Surprisingly, the boys haven’t said anything about wanting to go out and play in it. That’s fine with me. I guess being cold and wet once a year is enough for them, too.

Bullgrit