I don’t recall how old I was, elementary school, but in the later years of it, 3rd, maybe 4th grade. I also don’t recall if it was his birthday or father’s day, the two aren’t so far from each other on the calendar. I always liked doing “dad” things with my pop. I was the tomboy between my sister and I. She always had her nose in a book, he and I played catch. I never had much of an arm, but I learned to keep my eye on the ball and found a deep satisfaction in the leather thud of ball falling squarely into mitt, my small hands quickly grasping to keep it from popping out again. When he would be working on some carpentry project for his restaurant, my sister and I would sit in the sawdust and glue and nail little scraps of wood together, positive we were building masterpieces.
I guess I probably got the idea from Hollywood, or maybe it was after one of his too-early attempts at teaching me to sail, the two of us on a small craft in the middle of Lake Merritt, me only able to concentrate for 5 minutes at a time, but I decided that a homemade toy sailboat was the perfect gift for a father from his daughter. The only thing was, I didn’t know how to build one, and the only person I could think of who would, was, of course, my dad. So I enlisted his help, and together we built a little wooden boat. I don’t even remember if we ever set it afloat, but I remember how lovingly I sanded the edges smooth from the cuts he’d made with his table saw. I remember I painted the base white with a thin blue stripe all the way around. I sewed a little canvas sail, and while I still didn’t understand the physical mechanisms that made a sailboat sail, it certainly looked the part. I apologized, for making him help me build his present. I felt like it was less-than, and it wasn’t until years later that I believed what he had told me when he’d said that building it with me was the best part of the gift.

I don’t recall how old I was, elementary school, but in the later years of it, 3rd, maybe 4th grade. I also don’t recall if it was his birthday or father’s day, the two aren’t so far from each other on the calendar. I always liked doing “dad” things with my pop. I was the tomboy between my sister and I. She always had her nose in a book, he and I played catch. I never had much of an arm, but I learned to keep my eye on the ball and found a deep satisfaction in the leather thud of ball falling squarely into mitt, my small hands quickly grasping to keep it from popping out again. When he would be working on some carpentry project for his restaurant, my sister and I would sit in the sawdust and glue and nail little scraps of wood together, positive we were building masterpieces.

I guess I probably got the idea from Hollywood, or maybe it was after one of his too-early attempts at teaching me to sail, the two of us on a small craft in the middle of Lake Merritt, me only able to concentrate for 5 minutes at a time, but I decided that a homemade toy sailboat was the perfect gift for a father from his daughter. The only thing was, I didn’t know how to build one, and the only person I could think of who would, was, of course, my dad. So I enlisted his help, and together we built a little wooden boat. I don’t even remember if we ever set it afloat, but I remember how lovingly I sanded the edges smooth from the cuts he’d made with his table saw. I remember I painted the base white with a thin blue stripe all the way around. I sewed a little canvas sail, and while I still didn’t understand the physical mechanisms that made a sailboat sail, it certainly looked the part. I apologized, for making him help me build his present. I felt like it was less-than, and it wasn’t until years later that I believed what he had told me when he’d said that building it with me was the best part of the gift.

(via randomitus)

81 notes

Cuppa joe and my papa’s hands. Tuesday afternoons don’t get much better than this. 

Cuppa joe and my papa’s hands. Tuesday afternoons don’t get much better than this. 

9 notes

My dad is one of the best humans ever in existence. I am so grateful he’s my pop. 

My dad is one of the best humans ever in existence. I am so grateful he’s my pop. 

12 notes

home is where the stomach is

My pop’s restaurant; Specials November 18:

  • Acme Challah Orange French Toast with Strawberries 
  • Persimmon Walnut Pancakes 
  • Wild Organic Arugula, Tomato & Gruyere Croque Monsieur 
  • Biscuit Breakfast Sandwich - applewood bacon, tomato, Gruyere, arugula & fried egg
  • Holiday Turkey Hash topped with Poached Egg
  • Andouille Sausage & Roasted Red Pepper Frittata with Cotija Cheese

quite possibly the best thing about being home, besides my niece & nephew, is that now, when my dad’s restaurant posts their weekend specials on facebook, I CAN ACTUALLY GO EAT THEM!!!

Specials July 16:

  • Fiddlehead Fern & Jack Cheese Scrambled 
  • Broccoli Rabe, Tomato & Gruyere Croque Monsieur 
  • Biscuits & Sausage Gravy
  • Italian Sausage, Sauteed Zucchini & Parmesan Frittata  
  • Fresh Fruit Crepes with Sweet Cream Sauce
  • Washington Bing Cherry Breakfast Clafoutis 
  • Pt. Reyes Blue Cheese Pancakes with Grilled Apricot Compote

.

dear everything listed above

kindly proceed with getting in my face.

yours in gluttony, 

julia


sometimes
people paint pretty pictures
of my dad’s restaurant

sometimes

people paint pretty pictures

of my dad’s restaurant

10 notes

So..umm…my dad went to burning man.

(totally wish i could’ve gone with…)

24 notes

I wrote a long father’s day post yesterday and saved it to my drafts. I’m keeping it for myself, at least for now.
I miss my dad. a lot.
I get to see him in just a few weeks, which will be amazing. I didn’t get a chance to call him yesterday because I always think of it at the wrong times.
He is one of the most inspiring people I know and I am grateful that I have such a strong, good, kind, intelligent, feminist for a father.
I love you dad. You have taught me so much about how to be a good person and to live my life with cause. You’re the best. 

I wrote a long father’s day post yesterday and saved it to my drafts. I’m keeping it for myself, at least for now.

I miss my dad. a lot.

I get to see him in just a few weeks, which will be amazing. I didn’t get a chance to call him yesterday because I always think of it at the wrong times.

He is one of the most inspiring people I know and I am grateful that I have such a strong, good, kind, intelligent, feminist for a father.

I love you dad. You have taught me so much about how to be a good person and to live my life with cause. You’re the best.