Romantically involved

Note: I have to get to read a lot of "Dear Amy" columns at work, so I decided to adopt her style for this post. 

Downtown Grand Forks

Dear Amy, 

There's a man I work with and we are romantically involved. He's tall, smart and handsome with gorgeous green-blue eyes and great hair. 

Recently, we've been taking walks together during the day exploring the area we work in. 

Mostly we talk about our days and funny things that have happened since we last saw each other. 

Sometimes we talk about what we observe as we walk. 

This brings me to my dilemma -- we walk by all these restaurants in the late afternoon when their preparing for their dinner rush and the food smells so smoky and delicious. We love to talk about food. It's one of the things that brought us together in the first place. 

So my question is this: Is it love or is it just delicious ambiance of Grand Forks?

Sincerely, 

Fattie and Falling in the Forks

I imagine the response would go something like this:

Dear Fattie, 

A love of food and men is easily confused, but since you're walking with Mr. Gorgeous Eyes and not some other random individual, I'd say there's at least something about him you like. 

If you want to know for sure, take him to the least romantic place on earth and see if you still like him. If you do, keep walking.

If you don't, run! 

But when it all falls down around you, don't blame me. Blame the fried chicken. 

Amy

Dear Dad, it's Father's Day.

Dear Dad,

We've had some good times. And even though I'm 1,300ish miles away from you today, I'm thinking about you, so I thought I'd share some of my favorite moments.

Remember when you had all your hair and I didn't?

Remember when I was a kid, we were always on a team? We built fences as a team, played golf as a team and played games as a team.

When I was really small, you would take me to the auction barn with you a couple of times to get cows, and I would wear my red cowboy boots and try to act cool because we were a cow-buying team.

We drove your truck as a team, too. You would let me steer the truck or shift the gears for you. I learned that holding the steering wheel perfectly still did not make the truck drive perfectly straight like I thought it would. That was scary.

Remember when you were teaching me to drive on my own and made me back the stock trailer up to the sheep pen? That was terrifying. Remember how I backed up too far and hit the fence? Thanks for not freaking out.

... Just like you didn't freak out when I crumpled up your license plate while backing up to the utility trailer.
... Just like you didn't freak out when I put two creases in the side of your farm truck in the parking lot at my part-time job.

"It happens," and, "That's why we have insurance," were good things to say in those moments. Thanks for that.

Remember when I was in high school and mom would send us to the grocery store for things, and you would sing whatever random song happened to be playing on the radio in the store? I told you that was embarrassing because I knew that's what you were going for, but I kinda loved it.

Remember when you got me out of school junior year to go to that basketball game in San Antonio? Remember how Amar'e Stoudemire dunked on that old man Tim Duncan a few times? That was awesome!!! I try not to remember how the Spurs won in double overtime anyway. You were pretty smug about that, weren't you?

Remember that time you said "sad day" when I was a freshman in college to make fun of me for turning into one of those girls? That still makes me laugh.

Remember when Scott and I picked you up from the dentist in Abilene and you were really heavily sedated and said all kinds of ridiculous things? Nope, you probably don't ... But we will laugh about that for years to come.

I guess what I'm getting at is thanks for being my dad. You're pretty good at it.

Love,
Bug