Dog sitter gone wild

I needed to go out of town last weekend so my dad agreed to watch my dog while I was away. The idea was for him to meet me at my house at 11:00 so I could give him the feeding instructions, etc. He arrives at 10:30 when I am still in the process of getting packed and ready to go. Since he can't ever sit still, he says:

"Well, I am going to go for a walk and get myself oriented. I'll be back in 45 minutes."

He grabs the leash, and walks out the door with King, my rescued greyhound.
About 30 minutes later, he comes through the door with a huge smile on his face.

"I met your neighbor, Janie. She's VERY attractive. She has a little white poodle. Do you know her?"

And with that, he pulls a slip of paper out of his front pocket, and shows me. There is a phone number written on the paper, in a feminine handwriting. His face is beaming.
I am shocked. He's 76, but lord, he moves fast.

"Dad, how did that happen?"
"Well, we just got to talking and I told her that I was visiting and that I wanted to go to the wine bar while I was here. She's an artist. She has back problems. Her condo is exactly the same as yours inside."
"YOU WENT INSIDE HER HOUSE?!!??"
"Well, she had to get a piece of paper so she could write down her phone number."

I am left speechless. I have no idea what to say to this. So, I leave for the airport.

Later that night, I call his cell to see things are going, and to make sure he has everything he needs. No answer. I try again at 7pm, with no luck. At 8, I call again... zilch. Now I am pissed. Finally my phone rings at 9:30 pm and I see that it's him. I decide that I don't want to hear why he didn't answer his phone, and leave it for the morning.

The following morning, I call him again. He says that everything is fine, and that he and King are already on a walk. (It's 7:30 am) I ask him, jokingly, if he went out with the neighbor poodle lady. To my surprise (and horror) he answers:

"Yes I did."
"Oh really. What did you do?"
Now he sounds really pleased with himself. "First we went to the Beach House for drinks at about 5. Then we went over to Ki's for dinner. I had the coconut mahi-mahi."

I suppose he is forgetting that he was there to watch my dog, and that the dog usually gets fed between 6 and 7.

"So... when did you feed the dog?"
"Oh I fed him before we left, he's fine."

This would mean that he fed the dog at around 4:45.
Instead of giving him grief about feeding my dog at a bizarre hour, I decide to ask him about JOANNE instead.

"I thought you had a girlfriend, dad."
"Well I do."
"Um, Ok. Was it fun?"
"Oh yes, we had a great time. She's an artist."

Is he this delusional? Is JOANNE just a placeholder until a more attractive catch comes along. Is my dad really acting this way?? I guess so.

The next day I call my dad as I am heading back to the airport to check in.

"How's everything going? Did you have a nice night last night?" I had left him various foods and wine to enjoy for dinner, so I am assuming that he had a quiet night at home with the dog.

"Yes, it was great. I took King to the wine bar. You know, a lot of people come up and talk to you when you have an interesting dog like that. I sat outside and had some wine and salad and pizza. That dog sure does attract a lot of attention."

So... the first night he ditches the dog, and the second night he is using him as a chick magnet at a wine bar. Has the world gone insane? And a greyhound is not going to sit down or lay down in a place like that. He is going to just stand there the whole time, wishing he could leave.

Love my dad, but it's time for a new dog sitter.

Trojan Party

This morning, dad called me from the parking lot of Panera. He was going in to get some breakfast and then driving to Macy's to wait for the store to open. Why? Because he needs to get some "light-colored slacks", that's why. The weather is warming up, people. This is perplexing because his standard mode of dress for the past 100 years has always been the same:
1) baggy Levi's jeans (much baggier since the 15 pound weight loss due to the stress of our mom's death)
2) short sleeved button down fish shirt (he has a least 50)
3) white Reeboks

Over the past few months, however, our dad has been showing up to different family functions in clothing that we have not seen before. A maroon zip-up sweater here, a mock turtle-neck there... even a pair of flashy navy-blue New Balance sneakers. When we ask where he purchased these things, it's always either Macy's or the Sheep-Fold thrift store. Again, it breaks my heart to think of my dad shopping, alone, for clothing. And it scares me to think that he is going in to Macy's to buy some light-colored slacks with no assistance from any reasonable female.

What is the reason for this sudden need for light-colored slacks? The answer is that there is a USC reunion party coming up and he is taking JOANNE (a proud USC graduate) as his date. The party is hosted by one of my mom's best friends and her husband (also USC graduates). Ellen always throws quite an extravagant party, and it seems to me that this event is going to be the "coming out" of my Dad and JOANNE as a "couple". Several of the other ladies that he has had his eye on will be attending so I only wish I could be a fly on the wall. But then again, that's really the last thing I want to see.

We talk about the party for a bit and I ask him if he's nervous. He says he is a little nervous because they will be picking up another couple on the way that he has never met. Then I ask him if he ever holds hands with JOANNE. He says:

"Well, Yes!" his voice sounds a little excited.
"Really?"
"Yes, kind of a lot. She's like that."
"OK, well good for you." I mean, what else can I say?
"I like her a lot. She wants to do things, like go to movies and plays and things like that. And I want to do things."

I decide that I will wait for the next conversation to ask him about the KISSING. I know if I ask him he will get all embarrassed, but he'll tell.

Well?

So, the morning after the big dinner date with JOANNE, I call my dad.

"Well????" I ask? "How did it go?"
He laughs nervously a little and then says "Pretty good."
"So???? What happened?"
"Well, we sat outside and had some wine and looked at the backyard. Then it got cold so we moved inside. She ate those ribs with her fingers!"

He seemed slightly shocked and proud of this at the same time. Again, the vision I have of this unknown chubby woman eating ribs in our childhood home is a little daunting.

"And she had 2 pieces of cake!! She can really eat!"
"So then what happened?"
"Well, after while," (he's from Texas) "I took her home and we watched American Idol."

American Idol?? What? I find this to be hilarious. And this also means that he drove to her house to pick her up (15 min drive), took her back to his house for the big feast, and then drove her back home again in time to watch the big show. That's kind of cute, actually.
Usually at this point I would ask if they made out or if any funny business went on. These conversations almost always take place when I am at work, and due to his poor hearing, I have to speak very loudly. This is a bonus for my co-workers who can't help but overhear as the drama unfolds. Luckily, he can't hear them chuckling from time to time at the other end of the line. Today, I don't want to know if they made out. Ew.

"So the dinner was a success."
"Yes I think it was. I like her."
"Well, that's good dad."
"Thanks, talk to you later. Bye."

From everything I have heard so far, this mystery woman does not appeal to me in the least. She's crass, chubby, has a sordid past and talks too much. But even so, it's good to know that my dad had a nice dinner at home (without any of those meddling kids), probably for the first time in a very long time.

Setting the Table

Dad has asked his GIRLFRIEND, JOANNE over for dinner and it's the day before the big date. He has never cooked a meal before in his life (true) and he keeps saying "I don't know why I shot my mouth off and asked her over for dinner. I just wanted her to see the backyard." He says he has been doing a lot of work in the backyard to keep himself busy. But every time I go to his house, the backyard seems to be accumulating more junk: potted plants, tables, chairs and even a few bicycles that I have never seen before. Perhaps the work that he is doing is collecting more junk. He was hoping that they could eat dinner outside, but the weather report is not looking promising.
When he calls me at work, my first question to him is:

"What are you going to cook for dinner?"
"Chicken"
"What kind of chicken?"
"Trader Joes chicken."
"Dad, there are about 5 zillion kinds of chicken at Trader Joes. What kind?"
"Chicken a'la orange."
"That sounds nice, what else are you going to have?"
"Maybe some ribs too."

Gasp! The idea of eating ribs on a date makes me cringe. My mom's favorite food was barbecued ribs, and she used to gnaw on those bones until there wasn't a morsel left. It was barbaric, and that is why my sister and I never eat ribs. The mere thought of eating a barbecued rib is horrifying to us. We found it interesting that my dad would choose this food for JOANNE, and I mentioned that it's gross to eat ribs on a date. My dad goes silent for about 10 seconds.

"Well, I like ribs. You don't have to eat them with your hands."
"Ok, well... what are you having for dessert?"
"Dessert? I didn't even think of that. Do I need dessert?"

I tell him that I think ladies like dessert, and since he continues to bring up JOANNE's affinity for eating and that she is mildly overweight, it seems like she would want dessert.

"Get a key lime pie or something while you are at Trader Joe's," I say.
"OK, bye."

Never one for long goodbyes, he hangs up the phone.

About 2 hours later, the phone rings again. My caller ID shows my dad's number.
I pick up the phone and before I can even finish saying hello, he says:

"We've got a real problem over here."
"What's wrong, Dad?"
"I don't know how to set the table."

Wow. It's hard to even imagine my dad setting a table, or wanting to set the table. Usually he stands over the sink with a paper towel, devouring whatever he can find in the refrigerator. A lot of people brought him food in the beginning. Casseroles, meatloafs, soups, unknown wierd foil covered dishes. But now the free food has tapered off and he has been on his own for quite some time. He talks frequently about purchasing "ham steaks". This is depressing to hear. (What is a ham steak? Where do you buy one? Why?)

"Dad, I am going to send you an email that will have a link in it. Click on the link and it will show you a picture of how to set the table. There will be directions for where to put everything."
"I don't see an email."
"I haven't sent it yet. As soon as I find some pictures for you, I'll send you one."
"I still don't see it."
"Dad, just wait a few minutes and the email will come. If you don't get it in 5 minutes, call me back."
"OK," he says. "And one more thing... How do you warm rolls??"

This seems tragic, imagining my dad trying to do all of this. On top of that, it's for some woman named JOANNE, who isn't our mom.