This weekend was All Dads, All the Time. Well, mostly. The point is, Richard's father's birthday was Friday and my dad's birthday was Tuesday, and today was Father's Day, so it was a Celebrate Dad sort of thing for two whole days. Phew.

Yesterday we got up and merrily leaped onto our bikes for our usual weekend 'where shall we ride that's a different route than any other route we've done so far?' quest. Except that Richard was getting nasty cramps in his leg and the entire back of my right leg decided to join in the fun so we barely made it to Starbucks, where we sat around in our sexy bike shorts and drank coffee and tried to look cooler than we really are.

Then we headed back home to get ready so we could head down for the first half of the Father Fest, which was for Richard's dad. This was preceded by a trip to the Campbell Scottish Games, where we got to watch big burly men do some really good attempts at flipping telephone poles (in fact, a few of them actually succeeded, drawing loud applause). We also got to watch the telephone poles try to take out the burly men and the audience, which was sometimes even more exciting than the pole-flipping was. But then anyone idiotic enough to plop down in the grass behind where large burly men are going to be hoisting telephone poles into the air with their bare hands has got to expect the occasional imbalance and possible crash of said large and heavy pieces of wood going the wrong direction.

There was an ugly knees contest and a palest knees contest too, but somehow we managed (gosh, darn) to miss those. Ah, the fun you can have when there are plenty of men around in skirt....uh, sorry...kilts. Oh, and Richard was delighted to find a stand that actually sold haggis. In support of my craz...um...wonderful husband, I tried it. Imagine someone deep-frying a slab of liverwurst. Yeah. It really is that nasty.

Sunday we had to get up early because I was singing a duet in church and since it's now summer, the service starts earlier, and considering it'd been a month or three since the other singer and the piano player and I had actually *practiced* the duet, we figured maybe it might be good to meet a bit earlier and run through it maybe once or twice. It sounded lovely, by the way. And I'm discovering that if I put my mind to it, I can even handle alto parts (as long as they're not too high). I'm not sure I should ever attempt to sing soprano, since it would be painful not only for me but for everyone listening, but at least I can break out of the tenor thing here and there.

After church I dashed off to the grocery store to grab everything I needed and then set about making dinner for the second part of the Father Fest. Since my nephews were going to be there I had to consider the whims of small children, but I have yet to meet anyone who does not succumb to the true bliss that is my Chicken Paprika, and in deference to the wimpier tastes of some of my family members, I even toned down the garlic and onions. I am nothing if not a truly thoughtful daughter/sister/aunt. Or something.

Judging by the sheer amount that my youngest nephew (he's just over a year old) managed to smear all over his face, I succeeded quite nicely. Later, my mom and I conspired together and squirted a lovely pile of whipped cream on the high chair for him to play with. Quite amusing to watch. It all just underscores the sheer coolness of being an aunt (or in my mom's case, a grandma). It's the stuff you can get away with that makes it so much fun.