You gotta love Dad

My dad has been visiting for the last few days. He's been visiting my new car, I believe, more than me. Alright, not really. He did schedule the visit shortly after I purchased said car, so it is awfully suspicious. I guess that what happens when you buy some new fangled automobile like a hybrid....

I can't complain about my parents. They're wonderful. They would do anything to help my sister and me. They are fiercely loyal and protective and they've supported us through everything, good stuff and bad.

Over dinner last night, my father and I were discussing the dolls my sister and I had as children. He was saying he didn't remember our dolls having a particularly long life expectency and there were a number of headless dolls that we were unwilling to part with. He's absolutely right! Donnie Osmond was the only male "Barbie" we had, so when his head was lost, his social calendar was not limited. Then there was the Dorothy Hamill doll, or should I say dolls, I apparently went through 4 or 5 of them. You could take her skates off, but when you went to put them back on, you would break her legs in the process. And apparently the learning curve a bit steep on that one as I needed to break at least three sets of legs to figure that out for sure...

Then, of course, there's my sister's favorite story about me as a child. My father bought me this beautiful doll with blinking blue eyes. She had long blond hair that probably went down to her feet or close to it and she was called Angel doll or something like that. I named her Stanley. Apparently I'd always liked the name. Stanley met her demise when I decided to bath her with Crest. But as my father pointed out last night, she never did have any cavities....