Father and daughter days are so great.  They go way back too.  Before I was in first grade and able to attend PSR, my dad and I spend Saturday mornings together when Mom and Molly were at PSR, as teacher and student, respectively.

There was this coffee shop in Mayfield Hts/Lyndhurst that was in a plaza behind another plaza, and it has a huge front window that looked onto the stage that they had against the back wall.  There was once, and one time only, a magician on that stage, but I think that sealed in my little 5 year old mind that the coffee shop was magical.  Real or magic or not, it was magical because of the memories it created.  Dad and I would play card games, mostly War or Go Fish!, because again, I was about 5.  I remember winning War against him on a couple occasions and feeling like a rock star.

The best thing about those mornings was radio’s predictability.  Every one of them “Saturday’s Alright for Fighting” would come on the radio, and dad would turn it up and lip sync animatedly to the lyrics.  To this day I think of those mornings when I hear that song.  Riding in a red Thunderbird with my awesome dad, blasting some Elton John gold.

The song wasn’t played this morning, but dad and I were up and at em bright and early this morning.  The most important part of any day is of course breakfast, which is another shared love of ours.  We arrived at Nick’s Diner on Lorain with bells on, and ordered specialties of the place, like breakfast champs.  After cleaning our plates with lip-smacking delight, we were fueled up and ready to go pick out some lumber.

Arriving at Cleveland Lumber was a bit of a dream come true for me.  I’ve passed it on multiple occasions, and I’ve been curious of what wonders it contains.  Going with my father, who is the reason I even think about lumber stores (let alone fantasize about them) is where the dream really takes flight.

Once we told the man behind the counter our shelving plans, my dad did some really impressive on the spot math, and we were pointed in the direction of the lumber garage.  Entering this area was a sight to behold, because it was eye to eye lumber, and two dozen some ginormous saws.  Two guys came in and asked what we needed, and in maybe 25 minutes we had everything cut and loaded into the car.

On the drive home my dad said, “they must have thought we were cute,” because that lumber store mostly sees big projects that take upwards or hours to cut and load.  Arriving back at my apartment, we got right to fitting the pieces together, which put my dad in the bedroom with a drill and sander and myself in the living room with a somewhat archaic hacksaw contraption called a Miter Saw.  I had to whittle down the tips of 3/8” dowel rods, then hack them into 1 ¼ pieces on the Miter Saw.  I wasn’t very good at it, and dad kept saying “by the time you’re done you’ll be an expert.”  That wasn’t untrue, except I do not think I will ever be a whittling expert, which held me back.

We finished the day off around 1:20 PM with some pretty damn perfect looking shelves.  We will live to fight another day, because we know how to keep killing it.

Optional information:

Playlist: Jamie N. Commons (download everything he has, we have to get that guy more famous ASAP in order for him to tour ASAP).