Good-Bye, So Soon

The last few weeks have been hectic and busy, and wonderful. I started out the craziness with a trip to Ohio to see my brother graduate. Brad gets cooler all the time. He's so easy going and hilarious, and fun to be around. He's so good-natured, and he gets along with everyone.

Graduations are pretty boring. I don't recommend them. I do recommend trips to the motherland whenever you get the chance, though. It was fun to be home, see everyone, and participate in a the time-honored tradition of going to Kentucky to decorate headstones of family members past. I haven't been to my grandmother's gravesite since she died in 2003.

You know you are in Kentucky, because they memorialize your rockin' mullet when you die.

It was great to be around cousins and aunts and uncles. I grew up with them always around, and these last seven years, I haven't been as much a part of all the traditions and get togethers that we have, and I've missed it. The weather couldn't have been more perfect - mid-nineties with only a titch of humidity - and the only thing that was really bothersome was the discovery of ticks. Yes, ticks! [Take the time to shudder. It's appropriate, I promise.] We found one on Kelsie's back two days later! And it was probably more traumatizing for the adults than it was for Kelso; she was so good about leaning forward and letting everyone inspect and work to get it out.

I started reading the book Creeker while at my Aunt's house, and found that Memorial Day has long been called Decoration Day in the hills of Kentucky. The explanation the author gave of what the holiday consists of: decorating graves, talking about loved ones passed, etc., coincided with our own family tradition. I love that we have just a little bit of hillybilly roots.

I stayed for almost a week, and was still sad to leave. I just missed the Troy Strawberry Festival, which was sad. Even more so, because I didn't get to go pick berries like I wanted to. It helped to know that just a week later, my family would be coming to visit me in Utah. All except Mark, who is recovering from ACL surgery.

We started out their visit with a trip to Bear River Lodge. If you are ever looking for a beautiful area to ride ATVs or get away in a luxury cabin in the mountains, I recommend it. It was beautiful. And just a little bit cold. There was still snow, and Brad's shorts froze over night after he hung them out to dry. We went for a mini-hike, took a couple ATV rides, sat in the hot tub and had a really good time. The owner is a friend of my dad's (an old mission buddy) and he totally hooked us up.

Kelsie was hilarious because she climbed on the king-sized bed and immediately did this little dance and laughed.... non-stop for five minutes as she shifted from one foot to the other. It was contagious, and we were all doubled over, laughing.

Afterward, we headed down and spent some time with my Grandparents in Clearfield. We went to church and then headed down to hang out with some friends, the Belnaps. They have been friends with my parents  for some 20 odd years.

The Bollschweiler Family Reunion started on Monday in Bryce Canyon area. We stayed at the KOA. I don't have tons of experience staying at KOAs, but this is by far the nicest one. The restrooms were remarkably clean - which is the most important factor of anywhere I "camp". (I'm no camper.) Much to Dad's chagrin, we did a lot of hiking. But the area is beautiful, and unlike anything I've ever seen before. We made sure to take lots of pictures (Amy and Mackenzie, you need to get me copies of the ones I don't have ASAP) and hang out with the family. All the siblings were there, and with only a few cousins missing, it was really great to having everyone there and Utah really is a geologically interesting place. There are so many different places and things to see in one state - all different. It is incredible.

Mackenzie had to take off a day early because she was headed to basketball camp, and so Dad, Brad, Mackenzie and I left and stayed in a hotel in order to get them to the airport in time the next morning. Only, ask my dad, flying stand-by is a pain in the rear, and even though I had to go to work, their flight wasn't set to take off until later that night. I left them in Salt Lake to visit Temple Square, and decided to show my face at work.

Mom, Amy and Kelsie came and stayed with me for a few days. It was fun having Kelsie at church with me, because she's a turkey. I had to take her on the elevator in order to find a suitable place to change her diaper in between classes. She decided that the elevator was super fun, and later told us that she needed to be changed again. We believed her. So I let her push the elevator button, and up we went, only to discover that she really didn't need to be changed at all. When I said, "Kelsie! You just lied to me! You don't need to be changed!" She responded with laughter. Peals of giggles, that made me laugh right back. Because she's sneaky and cute.

She obviously had too much energy to go back to class, so I stood in the hallway while she ran up and down saying, "You can't catch me - I'm a gingerbread man!"

Everyone at church thought she was cute. And of course she is, but she is also distracting. I didn't mind, though.

Mom left Amy down in Provo so that she could spend some time with her parents, and so I went back to work while Amy met up with some old friends. We made sugar cookie dough, that has yet to be transformed into actual cookies.

It was just so great having them all around, and now that they have left, I wonder what the heck I'm still doing in Utah? Who's idea was it for me to come out here in the first place! Why am I so far away from my family!?!!! It is torture to say good-bye, and I swear it gets harder every time.

I miss them already.

Hobo Diet

My dad is concerned that I "eat like a hobo."

He thinks that a weekly trip to the grocery store might cure this habit I have of not eating at my apartment until I have to, and then emptying the contents of my cupboard and trying to make something remotely edible out of the mix of ingredients.

And then eating it.

There are some things that really go well together. For instance, one time a friend of mine and I got together and emptied the contents of our fridge and came up with a culinary masterpiece: chicken rubbed with lemon juice and crushed red peppers, topped with Swiss cheese and sauteed mushrooms. It turned out delicious.

Cream of chicken soup over rice with vegetables stirred in is not the best thing I've ever eaten, but it's passable.

Cottage cheese and black beans and green peppers = disgusting.

A can of green enchilada sauce, refried beans, wild rice, pepperjack cheese and some sour cream wrapped in a tortilla... well, it's just like eating a frozen burrito. Only, a lot more....runny.

Yeah, so, it all sounds unappetizing. And it definitely does not sound very healthy. But, when it's between that and going to the grocery store, sometimes it is just worth it to mix some things together and see how it works out for you.

This week, I don't have to worry about breakfasts or lunches. With all the food floating around the office: Peruvian fruitcake, bags of pistachios, apples and oranges, crackers and peanuts... I'll still be eating like a hobo. But at least I won't have to buy lunch!

Salve Pater!

Dear Dad,

I just wanted to tell you that, when you asked me, "How are you doing?" tonight, it sounded so sincere. I just knew that you really cared and wanted to know. And I appreciated that, because I know that you don't like to talk on the phone for hours like I do.


Thanks for thinking about me and being SO supportive. I love when you text me about something you've read in my book and that you've done your part in trying to promote it. And that you tell people at work that you're reading a romance without worrying about what people think.

The love and support that I feel from you and Mom, even though we are 1500 miles apart, is the strength I need to do what I can to be a better person and try harder. No daughter felt so loved as I did tonight after talking to both of you. I love you both so much.

You're the best, Dad. 

I love you!

Happy Birthday Father(land)!

I was just thinking that I should go to bed. I'm tired and I want to sleep, but I still have a million things to do and so it is hard to justify sleep at the moment. Of course, you're wondering then why I am "wasting" my time blogging when I should be finishing those things and getting my hind end into my bed.

My dad is probably the forerunner in those thoughts, because he never understands why I would still be awake past midnight. Clearly, if I were more mature then I would be in bed.... but then I hear the TV on and I know that my roommate is still awake. And I hear the shower and footsteps upstairs and I know the girls that live above me are still awake. And I'm betting Becca is awake. So it got me to thinking... not all of us are immature, though I think my dad would probably disagree with me. We just have different sleeping schedules. And at the age of 24(ish) I would have thought that we would all be more "responsible" and "mature" much like my dad was when he was 24.

But there's a big difference. When my dad was 24, he had a wife, two babies, a job (maybe two jobs) and was going to school. Of course he had to mature! He had four people he was trying to support while putting himself through school. And I've been struggling with just trying to support myself while going to school. So there's obviously some benefit in being forced to mature earlier, but for those of us that haven't had to grow up yet, it's no wonder we're taking our sweet time with it.

Anyway, that was my thought for this evening. My dad keeps wondering when I'll grow up and be more responsible, but obviously, I'm in no hurry. And I don't have a real reason to be. It isn't as if someone is sitting at home waiting for me to do the responsible thing.

And more to the point... On Sunday it is our nation's birthday. But more importantly, it is my dad's birthday. Since my dad is pretty great and was willing to grow up at the tender, naive age of 21, I do nothing but commend him at what an awesome husband, father and human being he is. I don't think I can accurately put into words how much I admire and love him. Most the time I find myself wishing I had been more of a daddy's girl when I was littler - it would probably be easier for him now that I really find myself wanting to cling to him.

Happy Birthday, Dad! (a little early) amo tu!

Father's Day 2010

For three years in a row I had to give talks on Father's Day in church. I wish I had copies of these talks because in every one of them, I recorded how awesome I think my dad is. It would have been fun to go back and read what I had written a few years ago.

But now I am reconciled to just write again, why I love my dad and it comes fairly easy, because I pretty much think the world of him. He's one of the smartest, most talented, most interesting guys I know. He works hard at a job he dislikes, church callings that demand much of his time, on the house that is in constant repair, on cars that are always in need, and on his relationship with his wife. He has a testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ and has shown that in more by action than in words. He has always served in his callings and as a home teacher faithfully. He is a dutiful father. He always calls when I need to hear from him.

The older I get, the more I realize the influence Dad has had on me. I don't leave a room without turning off the lights. I get frustrated when I can't find the lid to the tupperware. I don't like using the dishwasher, when it is easier to just wash the dish and then put it away. I have little patience for people who lack common sense. And I seem to find myself wishing that people would just put their problems into perspective and quit making a bigger deal than what it needs to be. I still take really long showers, though, when I can get away with it. And I still leave my clothes on the floor in the bathroom. Sorry, Dad.

Some of my best memories with my dad from childhood consist of going with him to Troy Lumber or somebody's house to help do little side jobs that he would take on. I remember going and helping him fix a toilet. Or walking home with him from Troy Lumber.

Happy Father's Day. I'm so grateful to have grown up with such a wonderful man for a father, even if you do give strange/lame dating advice. 

Weird Dream

I have crazy, vivid dreams sometimes. Usually between the time I've woken up when my alarm goes off and I've then fallen promptly back to sleep (with or without my alarm still blaring...).

This morning's dream was too strange not to document. Think a Tim Burton style film. Sort of weird and twisted with goofy characters that make you raise your eyebrows and say, "Um..." out of a little bit of discomfort.

The first part had me pulling up in a station wagon sitting next to my dad who was telling me,

"Remember, everyone's fate now rests in your hands...or your backpack really."
I nervously gave it a glance.

"Dad, I really don't want..."

"It doesn't matter. It's up to you now. Are you sure you have a safe place to put it?"
"I think it will be safe enough. But what if there is an earthquake? Or someone gets slammed into my locker or..."
"We'll just have to hope that doesn't happen."

He kisses me on the cheek and then hands me the backpack very carefully. I cringe. I don't want to be doing what I now have been told I have to do. I don't want to take my backpack, with the carefully wrapped, highly-sensitive nuclear bomb that I'm carrying into the school and hope that something doesn't knock into my locker hard enough to set the thing off.

Otherwise, we're dead.

I put the straps on over my shoulders and begin praying that no one bumps into me on my way to my locker. It was already a cloudy, miserable looking day, the one word that came to mind was "bleak". Everything, our whole lives, looked rather bleak. The school - the whole town, really - had been prepping for a nuclear attack for months by driving livestock away so they wouldn't be destroyed. (Why didn't they drive away the people, I wonder?)

I walk cautiously down the long corridor, which narrows and widens at will, like walking through a hallway lined with carnival mirrors. People seem to be purposefully crashing into me. "FOOLS!" I think. They have no idea that I'm carrying one of the scariest things of all times.

When I reach my locker, number 55, I kneel down and carefully put my book bag on the ground and pull out a blue, high-quality looking lunch box. It is the one with the bomb. I hate having the thing in my hands. I really don't want the responsibility of this! But it's up to me now, so I carefully set it at the bottom of my locker. And then I pull out a paper sack with my real lunch in it.

Someone notices, "Two lunches today?"

"One's a snack. I have to stay afterwards, late..." They shrug and move off.

I sigh, and then gently close my locker. What if the lunchbox accidentally falls over? Would it detonate? My fears are all-consuming, and I quickly walk down the hallway. One thing is for sure, if the bomb does go off, I'm just as dead as anyone else. They'd never link the fact that I had brought the bomb into the school. Which is another thing that I'm worried about. Kids are carrying guns into the school now. I see my friend Levi, showing off his new handgun and then sticking it in the back of his pants. I thought guns weren't allowed on school property.

I go and sit in my class. Nervous. Sweaty. It's really humid outside because it has been threatening to rain for months. Colin is giving a special presentation and pulls out his fancy technology to show us who would be affected if a nuclear attack started here, or here or here. The lines he draws on the map are confusing and frustrating, because he hasn't pinpointed the school as part of detonation. And so he hasn't told the class that they were likely to be blown up, not just have their skin melt away.

Class is almost over and I see my dad in the hallway. He quirks a smile at me and as soon as the bell ring I go to the room where my Aunt Bonnie has set up for him. It's a special room, though I don't see what is special about it. The walls are dirty, the ceiling rotted away from a leak. The beds (it is a hotel room) are gross looking, but my dad is laying on one with his hands under his head.

He had checked on the bomb, it was still in my locker. And I kept questioning him on how he knew it was my locker. I kept asking if it was from the last time he was here, and he said, "It must have been the last time." But I'm still racking my brain for how he would know where my locker is.

"Is it safe?"

"For now."

"Good, let's go clean up."

Then something happens, and I'm not sure what, but we see a ghost floating down the hallway and my comment is something like, "No wonder there are ghosts."

We go outside and he has a shopping cart that he pushes around, while I'm picking up litter along the side of the road. We're talking as if there isn't a bomb in my locker. And the world isn't going to end. Just talking about how disgusting people are, and how easy it is to put away your own trash. And I kneel down next to a puddle and pile of mud and trash and notice a plastic set of bowling pins and balls.

"I wish they would have donated this to DI," I say forlornly. People are so wasteful.
"Me too," Dad says. "It would make this a whole lot easier."

We look over our shoulder, and there are ghosts messing around in the graveyard.

"Do you think we're going to make it out alive?" I ask.

He looks at me.

"I hate this," I say.

And then I wake up. There was more about the ghosts, but I can't remember what. And I think my Aunt Bonnie had some speaking parts as well.

It was such a weird dream.... very dark and spooky. And about nuclear bombs, which is super weird as I haven't seen anything that I would think would incite such subconscious thoughts.

I know some of you are thinking that I embellished this or something, but really, my dreams play out like stories or movies. There is SO much detail I don't even remember it all. It's kind of incredible. I've had the weird, disjointed dreams that don't often make sense and they transition quickly from one thing to the next. But for the most part, my dreams are a story.

Church Notes

Church was really good today. The bishopric were all gone during sacrament meeting, and so the High Councilman that was presiding and conducting bore his testimony of our Heavenly Father before turning the time over the congregation. His thoughts were exactly my own as he talked about our Father in Heaven and the love that He has for us as His children. He knows us so intimately and so infinitely that it is impossible to grasp. I've been thinking a lot lately of how Heavenly Father seems to be looking out for me. Even when I don't deserve it, somehow I have always had money to travel back home for Christmas or our family reunion. I've managed to pick up a temp job or find full-time or better employment than currently - and usually in the nick of time. Or He just sends friends into my life that influence me for the better, or ones that I can count on when I need them to be there, or just to say the right thing at the right time. More importantly, they've loved me for me - or rather, despite of me. He's also given me fabulous parents who love me and try to guide me. They've certainly taught me by example. And I'm fairly certain that Heavenly Father and my dad are pretty in sync, because my dad always seems to call me or text me when I need hm most. And in the end, when we have fouled up and we feel that we don't deserve to be loved and we don't deserve to be blessed...sometimes that when Heavenly Father blesses us most by reminding us of all the things that we have in our lives. I can't tell you how much of a comfort this knowledge has been to me in the past week - which has literally been a week from hell. And of course, I have to add, the ultimate sacrifice of His first born son, who he sent to earth to die for us, even though He was spotless and had no need to repent. I imagine the love that I know that He has for me and then multiply it for His firstborn - and yet, because He loves me, He sent Christ down to atone for us - despite of us - and because of that we can return to His presence...

My favorite thought of the day came from one of the testimonies that was given during Sacrament meeting. It was a guy and he was talking about a rough time in his life where he was away from home and his grandmother had just passed away. He had been praying for better understanding of what the resurrection meant. One night he was thinking to himself that if only he could have a hug from his mother, somehow that would make it better. And he realized that that is what the resurrection means to us. It means that one day we will have our bodies back, and because of that, there will be embracing in heaven. There will be hugging and touching... all because Christ was resurrected and set the way so that we can be too. I marveled at that thought, because I absolutely know that a heaven without a hug from my mom or my dad would be miserable. There are definite times in my life when I ache for the embrace of a loving parent. And I am so grateful that my parents were sealed in the temple, so that our family can be together for eternity. And because of Christ's resurrection, I'll get that hug from Dad whenever I need it. (And I could really use one right now, actually.)

In Relief Society, the lesson was on forgiveness the teacher put up a list of what forgiveness wasn't: It isn't trivializing your own suffering. It isn't accepting the sin. It isn't allowing yourself to continue being victimized. It isn't forgetting the pain. And it isn't trust. The Bishop brought up Elder Bednar's talk about how we choose to be offended and that we have complete control over those emotions. And I realized something. Sometimes in my effort to try and not be offended, or by choosing not to be offended, I am also trying to suppress the hurt that was done to me. As much as I complain about things, I often don't confront a person who has really, truly hurt me by their actions or their words. And I don't often realize how hurt or offended I am until I've really thought about it later. And even once I've realized it, I think that it's been to long to bring it up again, and so I let it go. I think I forgive them. But the pain is definitely still there. But the forgetting the pain part is part of the learning experience of life. So for all of those who think I still hold grudges, I say to you: False. I am just remembering the pain. And if I bring it up every time I'm reminded of it, don't think that I haven't forgiven. I just haven't forgotten. Which, we really aren't required to do - mostly because we can't. How do you forget that stinging remark someone has said to you, that you hear every time you look in the mirror now that he's said it? How do you forget that inconsiderate action by a close friend that turned your world upside down? You can't. But you can forgive them.

The Bishop also pulled out John 8, where the woman taken in adultery is accused. I love that story simply because of the amazing compassion that Jesus had for her. That He has for all of us when we sin. She broke a very serious commandment. By law she should have died. But he did not condemn her. And because of that, she was able to go from Him and repent. She was given the opportunity to change. What a marvelous blessing the atonement gives us! The Savior has paid the price for all our sins, and because of that, He opens his arms wide to welcome us back as soon as we give up our sin and come to Him.

mi padre

So yesterday was Father's day.

I have been thinking about my dad a lot. First I was thinking about what to get my dad for Father's Day. Then I was thinking about what card to get for Father's Day. Then I was thinking about the blog post I was going to write for Father's Day.

There was a lot of thinking, and a whole lot of nothing happening. But my father expects this of me...or he should. I am a master procrastinator. And no, I did not learn that from him. If I had picked up his traits, I would not be a procrastinator at all.

I wanted to write a big long post about all the things that I have learned from my dad, and the amazing life lessons he's taught me. For some reason, I keep thinking to myself, "Man, I must have gotten that _______ [insert trait/attribute/habit here] from Dad." Only, when I go to write it down, I can't remember what it is. But let me tell you, this non-existent list is getting quite hefty. Because, even though I can't remember; and even though we are so incredibly different: we're not really. He has taught me well. And as I grow and mature, I think I will be more like him. I'll just eat better.

As I was thinking about my dad the last few days, the main thing that just kept coming to my mind was: I love him.

I love him, a lot.

I just do. My dad is singularly, one of the greatest men I know. I love him. I love him. I love him. I just don't think that I say it enough. I don't think that the depth of my love comes across very easily. He is what I compare most men to. He is everything. Because he is the musician/farm boy/biker/nerd/business man/construction worker/athlete....all rolled into one. How awesome is that? He plays guitar, rides motor cycles, can build a house from the ground up, fix computers and all things electronic, plays basketball, and...he's spiritual. His background involves a turkey farm, tobacco farm, tractors and horses.

I don't know any other man that is as versatile as my dad.

On top of that, I love that he has truly taught me what to look for when I am looking for my own husband. It will be impossible to find someone with so many varied interests as my dad, but if I just look for the basics...I think I will do alright.

• Someone who loves the Lord. My dad served a full-time mission for the Church. He served in bishoprics and elders' quorum, and all other manner of church callings. He prays and reads his scriptures. And he is worthy to hold the priesthood - the power of God. I have never been turned away when I need a blessing, because he has always been worthy.
• Someone who works hard. My dad has always had a full-time job. It didn't matter whether or not he was in school full-time too, but he has always worked. On top of that, he has worked side jobs all my life. Whether it was fixing toilets, finishing basements, roofing or painting a house, building decks, etc. He used to referee basketball (awesome!). And on top of all of that, he worked on his house, too. Doing all of that and more. He's always on the go, and always working to provide for our family. There is nothing more commendable than that.
• Someone who loves his family. Not just his wife and kids - though he is particularly devoted to us all. But his mom and dad, brothers and sisters. My dad's family has taught me what a true family is. To be there when it counts. To sustain and support whether emotionally, financially or physically. I have been so blessed to be a member of his family - and I am so grateful that he has maintained those ties and relationships with his family members so that I could grow up with knowing my aunts, uncles and cousins.

So Dad, even though this post is a day late (two, if we are on Ohio time) I just want you to know that I love you and that I am thinking about you. And I appreciate you.

You are my hero. You are my example.

Love you,
Shelli

Daddy's Little Girl

Our amazing apartment is in charge of the Spotlight for ward prayer next week, and in an effort to be different and creative, we decided to quiz our dad's and see what they knew about us. It was rather hilarious...

My dad knows what he answered for each question...but I thought I'd give him the RIGHT ones.

1. What is your daughter's favorite band?

• John Mayer, Ludo, Muse
• Also accepted: Armor for Sleep, Michael Buble, Maroon 5, Norah Jones, Boyz II Men, Landon Pigg, Dashboard Confessionals, Coldplay, Weezer, Placebo...etc.
• Dad's answer: Josh Groban
• To be fair... I actually do own two of Josh's CDs, and I like him quite a bit. Though, I wouldn't peg him as a favorite.

2. Where in the world would your daughter like to travel?

• Anywhere outside the U.S.
• Also accepted: UK, Scotland, Ireland, Germany, France, Italy, Greece, Brazil, Peru, Barbados, Jamaica, Bali, Australia, Thailand, etc.
• Dad's answer: Europe!
• You got it right...I want to go to Europe more than I want to go anywhere else in the world. But the country changes almost daily.

3. What are some of your daughter's hobbies?

• Dad nailed this on the head: reading, writing, pretending to play basketball (really I just LOVE it)
  
• Also accepted: working, school work, blogging, listening to music, baking, and watching movies.
  
• Looking at this list, I realize that my hobbies lack in actual ACTIVITY. Guess I need to work on that.
  

4. What would be an ideal date?

• Some sort of sports event (basketball or football preferred) followed by a long walk.
• Dad's answer: going to a fancy restaurant
• To be fair: That's a good answer. I LOVE trying new places. And I like things to be fancy. I think we seriously lack reasons to get dressed up...

5. What sort of qualities are you looking for in a man?

• Someone who is masculine, hilarious, worthy priesthood holder, and ambitious/a provider
• Also accepted: well, there are lots, but those are the main ones
• Dad's answer: Has testimony, is funny, and has common-sense
• Everyone loved that "commen-sense" bit, and it made me laugh. Dad always talks about how it is something his mother tried/did teach him and something I know he tried to teach me. Sometimes I exhibit common sense, othertimes, (like now at 1:30 a.m.) I do not.
• Also, if he happened to referee basketball, that would be quite the icing on the cake!
  

Thanks for playing, Dad! Apparently you and I need to have a little more girl talk; then I'm sure you'll get them all right next time!

I LOVE YOU!

Cockroaches

My mom was looking through those pictures last night and we were wondering what it was about that house that made my parents say, "We'll take that one!"

The answer: It was cheap.

Had my mom known how much work it would have been, how the work would never end, and that the neighborhood was really not very good - she probably would not have allowed my dad to buy it.

My dad and my uncle were pretty sneaky about covering up how much work this house would be. In fact, when they bought it, they told my mom that she was not to go into the basement. So, of course, she did. As my dad showed her down the steep flight of stairs, pulling away spiderwebs and all sorts of grossness, he reminded her of how things could be cleaned up and fixed.

When they reached the basement and my dad flipped on the light, my mom saw movement. Fleeing. Hundreds of cockroaches hiding in the shadows of the rocks and dirt mounds. *shudder* My mom was none too pleased. However, the house was bought, and the work began.

I remember my little kindergarten friend stopping by to see my new house and as I was showing her around I brought her to the top of the stairs of the basement. Mind you, I was used to a dirt floor basement. Our house on Frank Street had a cellar (like the one on Wizard of Oz or Twister, where they have the two doors that open up and you walk down...) anyway, it was like that only we didn't have to go outside to get to it. My dad wouldn't let us down in the basement, but instead pretended to BE a giant cockroach from the basement. He made all sorts of hissing noises and said really weird things. My friend was weirded out, but I was laughing.

My dad's really funny.