Love, Your Biggest Fan.

Dear Dad,

Hi Daddy!  It is Sunday morning, and if I know you, you've been up for hours already.  You've made your coffee, read the newspaper, took a shower.

You've also talked to the cats, maybe talked to one of your brothers, and are probably thinking about going next door to Catherine and Julian's, and talking to their two tiny girls. 

 

Christmas, 1986.

Maybe it comes from growing up in a family of eight children, but you've always been a big kid.  Which is one of the many, many things I love about you.  The way that toddlers and tiny people are instantly drawn to your presence.  I think you never stopped feeling grateful for having a baby yourself, and kids pick up on that: That you believe they are genuinely so special. 

One of our many Olan Mills portraits, circa 1990.

Now, you were always handsome Daddy, and Mom has been gorgeous from the start.  But man, did I go through an awkward period.  One that didn't truly wrap up until college.  Still, you always remarked in public about your "gorgeous daughter," showing off your wallet-sized Olan Mills portraits of us, and placing a huge frame of me on your office desk.  Your lawyer buddies would come by and politely ask, "oh, is that your child?" and you would answer, "YES!  That is MY DAUGHTER!  She got STRAIGHT A'S her very first year in MIDDLE SCHOOL!!!"  

Because you were the proudest dad that ever lived. 

I have no idea where this is!  But I think the year is 1992.  Your Year of Hats.

But in addition to being proud, I think you and Mom both are still dumbfounded / grateful every day that you both made it.  That you went back to school later in life, got professional jobs, and were able to afford raising a child.  

You both came from modest means, and you wanted so very badly for me to succeed.  To have good teachers, and to be able to go to college.  Lessons that were hard-won for you both.

You visiting me at camp in Wimberley, 1995.

A long time ago, I remember you coming to one of my basketball games.  I was in the fourth grade, and I was just horrible.  I shot at the wrong basket, I air-balled when I shot at the right basket, and I constantly let the ball get stolen from me.

I cried after that game, but instead of letting me feel like a failure, you came up with a plan.

"Next time those mean girls start swarming you, just stand still and SWING YOUR ELBOWS INTO THEIR FACES!  That'll teach 'em."

Because in basketball, as in life, you knew that if I fought just a little bit harder, I'd get what I wanted.  One of the most amazing things about you, and specifically your marriage with Mom, is that you are among the rare few who married, got divorced, and married each other again.  And the second time, it stuck.

Normally this happens because the wife drags the husband to counseling.  But not you.  You went to counseling totally on your own, because you wanted desperately to understand how you could be a better husband.  How to get back that woman you fell in love with, the one with the pretty legs and traffic-stopping smile.

At Uchiko for my birthday, 2011.

And not only did you eventually get her back, you decided to have a baby together.  No matter that you were stuck at a managerial job you didn't like, and Mom was waiting tables.  You two have always been big dreamers.

That reminds me of my second-favorite story about you, Dad.  When everyone was going around the circle at lamaze class and introducing themselves, you and Mom decided to lie, and make up new jobs.  The jobs you really wanted.

  So, Mom looked around the room, and announced to everyone that she was an artist.  You smiled and said, "I'm a writer."

(And I love how a few years later, you went back to school at UT, got your degree in journalism, and started copy-editing for The Daily Texan.  Because you did it!  You actually became that writer.)

Deep-sea fishing in Corpus Christi, 2003.  I think this is at your favorite restaurant, CrawDaddy's.

Christmas 2010, you holding the homemade jalapenos Ross and I made.

You have always encouraged me to dream big too, Dad.  You and I share a common resentment of sleep, because we want to be up all the time, experiencing everything.  You've always, always, got a conspiratorial sparkle in your eye, like you know something the rest of the world doesn't.  And I think your secret is your child-like fascination with it all.   

I love you so enormously much, Daddy!  And I'm thankful every single day, but especially this one, that you are my father. 

happy father's day!

Love,

Tolly

Huisache Grill / One of the coolest birthday presents ever.

Have any of you visited Huisache Grill in New Braunfels?

Ross and I ventured down a few weeks ago for my birthday. Look at this dashing couple we discovered!

Hi Mom and Dad. You're looking quite studly in your leather jacket, sir.

Huisache Grill is the new "in-between" restaurant for my parents (who live in San Antonio) and Ross and I.  I can't quite remember how they discovered it, but it's built literally next door to the train tracks, and when the train rolls by you can look out the window and see it a little more than an arm's reach away. It also has its own wine bar. And because wine + odd novelties = Moseley Family solid gold, we've been eating there often.

What a carnivorous family, right? Anyway, the food here is delicious, and largely country club-type dishes. Bacon-wrapped sirloin, salmon cakes, turkey club sandwiches. No Burmese-fusion or surprise sushi rolls here, but sometimes you crave simple food. You know. 'Merican.

For my birthday, my parents gave me the most awesome present ever: a vintage jewelry box, filled with vintage necklaces, earrings, rings, brooches - WHEE! I was ecstatic, and have been wearing around my new treasures everywhere.

Ross looks a little weary, probably because I just squealed in his ear.

SXSW Can Wait for One Man: Daddy.

Happy Birthday, Daddy!

Tom Moseley turned 62 yesterday. Isn't he handsome?

My beautiful mom, above, has a delightfully wry sense of humor. Here is the card she gave him for his birthday:

Heh.

It's funny because my parents think it's hi-larious when they get offered any kind of senior citizen-related discount. In fact, last night we were technically celebrating the 40th anniversary of Daddy's 22nd birthday. If you know my parents, it makes a lot more sense than "his 62nd birthday."

No matter what

I love my parents. Sorry for the Hallmark, but they really are two of my best buddies. Here's why.

So, earlier this year, my mom - a pharmaceutical rep for Novo Nordisk - entered this national competition where, if she signed more diabetes drugs than anyone else in the company, she got this ridiculous prize. (For those not versed in pharmaceutical lingo, "signing drugs" is what happens when a doctor decides to add your drug to his roster of prescriptions. I know - in any other context the phrase "signing drugs" would be a lot more interesting, right?) Well...she won. She signed more diabetes drugs than anyone else nation-wide. Isn't that crazy?! My mom's not a hyper-crazy sales type of person either - just a really sweet woman. With excellent cheekbones.

Anyway, the prize - you're going to love this - is a 2-minute race through a warehouse, filled with flat-screen TV's, cell phones, cameras, jewelry, a motorcycle (!), computers...you name it. Yes, exactly like Supermarket Sweep. She gets 5 minutes to walk through, "chart her course," then heads back to start and goes for it. Flatbed in tow.

Well, this was pretty much the most exciting thing that could have ever happened to my dad. He was planning strategy before Mom even won, and when she did, they hopped in a car to Sam's Club and practiced with a timer and a flatbed (Dad's idea).

So before the race (it happened two Saturdays ago) Dad submitted a list to Mom of things he would like. Namely a flat screen TV. Mom - again, sweetest, most selfless soul ever - didn't really want much for herself, except maybe a GPS because (like her daughter) she's always getting lost. But for me and R., she had an excellent idea: two brand new Mac laptops!

On the day of the race - are you ready? - a bus freaking pulls up to Mom and Dad's hotel, drives them to the warehouse, and there is a marching band, guys, waiting outside. What else? The Minnesota Vikings cheerleaders! And a high-five line, after she got off the bus!!

Alright, so my mom does the race, rocks it, but unfortunately - no laptops. In the warehouse. Oh well. But being the crafty gal she is, Mom snatches three flatscreen TV's, thinking she'll hawk two and use the money to buy laptops for R. and I. I know! So nice! (and sorta gangsta!)

So all of that background leads us to our conversation on the phone this morning. Mom is explaining that one of the laptops has come in already, and she and Daddy are trying to figure out which model they should order next. Now my parents, like R. and I, aren't exactly computer model geniuses - "Mac" and "PC" pretty much sum it up - but Daddy, the typical daughter's father, ney, the typical ONLY CHILD's father, had this to say about it:

"No matter what, Tolly gets the better one."

Sorry R. Weren't born a Moseley? You snooze, you lose.