My name is Dad.
That’s the refrain I’ve had to use relentlessly these past weeks. Since visiting Aunt Nina’s house and hearing her call me “Pal,” you’ve repeated it over and over in every address.
“Hey Pal, can you play with me?”
“Hey Pal. Pal. I want to watch a show.”
“I want a popsicle, Pal.”
I correct you with “My name is Dad” and at least you’re willing to insert the synonym so we can get on with our activity. Or a popsicle.
As mentioned, we went to Aunt Nina’s house in Bellingham to meet your new cousin Lennon and getting all of the baby cuddles and coos. You were good with the obligatory time holding Lennon and taking a photo and were otherwise running around with Harry in your underwear and fists full of action figures.
You’re not the only one running around. Your old man has gotten after it these past weeks, with underwear and many more coverage layers. The day after our trip to Bellingham I jumped in the car with Uncle Scott and drove down to climb Mt. Adams. We didn’t sleep and hiked and climbed 13,000 feet of elevation change over 16.5 miles. We made the roundtrip in 22 hours. You may or may not decide to climb Adams in a day based upon this report, but you can at least look back and see that I was still going big in in my late 30s!
I have one more objective ahead later this week. I’ll circumnavigate Fox Island by kayak, about 12 nautical miles. We’ve had a great time getting on all four of our boats this summer, and I opted for this challenge to help support fundraising for Obliteride and Fred Hutch. As you know, you’re Grammie has had a couple bouts with lung cancer, so the least I can do is help fight cancer and have a little fun doing it.
I’m flirting with how much more I can push my body, clearly. Pal still has something to prove.
Love, Dad