Mr. Goatee meets the dad
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In the past week Mr. Goatee and I walked along the beach, watching surfers in the Pacific, have stayed in the desert of Palm Springs, and have hugged each other in the snow on top of a mountain. It was all part of a trip we took to Southern California. Sometimes I forget how lucky I am to have family in the state, how I forget how special and beautiful it can be there. Also, part of the trip, was dad meeting Mr. Goatee. They had talked to each other on the phone plenty of times before, but I was nervous about what they would think. Mr. Goatee was nervous, because apparently he didn't have very good luck with girlfriend's fathers in the past. But I wondered what Mr. Goatee would think of my dad... because, well, he's not exactly a normal dad. While my friend's fathers wear ties to work and spend their weekends on the golf course, my dad's idea of dressing up is wearing hawaiian shirts and flip flops. He spends his time creating sculptures and modern art, and building homes for the gay community of Palm Springs. My dad is married, but to a 30-something mail-order russian bride. And my grandmother, bless her heart, is a few marbles loose. Goatee got a first hand-account of her mentality when she wrapped up her silver butter tray and gave it to him for christmas, and when she gave my dad a 12-in
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