My pseudo "in-laws" are coming to town. That means my pseudo "father-in-law" is coming as well... and staying with us. For those of you who don't know, Manda's dad scares the SH*T out of me.

Don't get me wrong. He's a nice guy. He just loves his daughter a LOT. And when I saw a lot, I mean this:

Back in 2004, Manda was moving out here from Birmingham, so I flew out there to drive back with her. Her car was packed up, we're saying our goodbyes and getting ready to drive away. Her dad hadn't said ONE word to me the entire time I was there when suddenly, and I mean suddenly, he looked me square in the eyes and said "you take care of my daughter."

I admit, I peed myself a little. Which in my mind is better than soiling myself. Less stinky.

The next few times he saw me, he looked through me. Then a few times after that he started talking to me when he'd had a few drinks. Only after the Thanksgiving diarrhea incident has he actually acknowledged my presence and started what some would consider "normal" conversations. Diarrhea brings people together. Just saying.

Because her father and I are in that cautious and delicate stage of developing and establishing our relationship, I'm scared that the more time I spend with him the greater the chance of me screwing up is. Not that I'm a screw up, I mean I can be, but you know what I'm saying... right?

Did I ever tell you the story about when he was sharpening his machete? Manda is shaking her head right now because it wasn't really a machete, it was a pocket knife that, in my mind, was the size of a machete. Anyways, he was sharpening his machete when he says to Manda's mom "you know what I'm gonna do with this?". Ummmm... What? "I'm gonna use it on Lindsay since she's the reason my daughter's in Arizona."

I've been assured he was joking, but I'm hiding all the kitchen knives just in case.

Peace Out.

:o)