Really Dad? (pause) Really?

So.........something's happening here at the Flying F Ranch in sunny Sequim. Dad is really getting old. No, no, I don't mean "old" in the chronological sense. Or.....maybe I do. I dunno. But..........all I know is that ever since we put Mom in the A.L.F., Dad has become progressively more and more..........oooooold. Like.........functionally oooooold. He blurts out some really, really crazy stuff. Stuff that is either: a. A gross exagerration; b. Something he just said the day before; or c. Is just flat out not true. And as a result, I find myself muttering the same response a lot lately, "Really Dad? (pause) Really?"

Case in point.......day before yesterday, I was in the kitchen trying to make a quick salad. Dad was in there too, which is why I was making a QUICK salad. I purposely try to avoid making myself food of any kind when Dad is in the kitchen. Why, you ask? Well, because he constantly sticks his nose (literally) into whatever it is I'm fixing, pokes his fingers into whatever it is I'm fixing, and repeatedly (and I DO mean repeatedly) begs for a taste of whatever it is I'm fixing. That's not the worst part though. Doesn't matter WHAT I'm fixing, or cooking, or sauteeing, toasting, or mixing, or braising, or stewing, or stirring he'll nag me the entire time about how I SHOULD be fixing, cooking, sauteeing, toasting, mixing, braising, stewing, or stirring whatever it is I'm fixing, cooking, sauteeing, toasting, mixing, braising, stewing, or stirring.

"ADD SOME SALSA TO THAT. HERE I'LL GET IT OUT FOR YOU."

or.....

"YOU KNOW WHAT WOULD BE GOOD ON THAT, HERE LET ME SHOW YOU...."

or.....

"SAYYYY THAT LOOKS PRETTY GOOD. HERE LET ME ADD SOME [insert name of Dad's condiment of choice] TO THAT."

You get the picture. It reminds me of that old Anacin commercial with the adult daughter and mother--"Mother please! I'd rather do it myself!" Remember that one? Remove the mother; insert my father. That's what I'm talking about.

Anyway......so I'm in the kitchen, making a quick salad. And I look over and notice Dad's kind of slouched over the kitchen trash. I quickly figure out that he's got one of his nose bleeds again. There he is, stuffing a tissue wad up his right nostril. I walk over and look in the trash to see exactly what I expected to see--a contrasting collage of white tissue splotched with bright red blood. Dad gets these nosebleeds about once a month. After his last one, I did a little research on the Internet to make sure this wasn't a warning sign of something more serious. Turns out, nosebleeds are fairly common in the elderly. Something to do with their thinning capillary walls and decreased ability to clot.

"What's goin' on Dad?" I ask rhetorically.

Dad looks up, tissue wad sticking out of his right nostril. "HUH? OH, NOSEBLEED."

He says it rather matter-of-factly. He's used to it. I am too actually. Though the amount of blood that results from one of his nosebleeds is pretty astounding.

I look back into the trash bin, still amazed at the copious amount of blood. "Wow. That's......that's a lot of blood."

I look back at Dad, who merely shrugs, while preparing a fresh tissue wad.

And here's where the "old" thing happens. I stand there looking at Dad's sort-of-plugged-up nostril. And he says, with a really ridiculous sense of bravado, "YEAHHHH..........IT'S FROM MY PRIZEFIGHTING DAYS."

"Really Dad? (pause) Really?"

Here's another one. There's a live eaglecam that streams live video of a bald eagle nest from Decorah, Iowa. Currently, there are three eaglets of about two weeks of age in the nest. I have the eaglecam playing 24/7 on the other computer in my office, so Dad can come in any time during the day or night and check out what's going on with the eaglets. He loves this kind of stuff so it's been a real thrill for him to watch the daily routine of the two eagle parents and their three offspring. The parents take turns. One stays with the eaglets and feeds them, the other hunts for and brings back fresh meat. Seems like about once a day the parents shift roles. If you don't actually see it happen, you'd probably never know the parents have switched. Adult eagles look pretty much identical. Which brings me to Dad's other "old" moment.

So I'm working in the office the other day. Dad wheels in, stands and studies the eaglecam for a few seconds. (One of the parents is sitting on the eaglets, keeping them warm.) "WELLLL LET'S SEE...." He studies the eagle parent briefly (recall Dad's vision issues...) then says, "NOPE, THAT'S THE SAME PARENT."

This immediately gets my attention so I turn around, notice the eaglecam showing the one adult sitting on the nest. I've been watching the eaglecam pretty diligently for a couple of weeks now and I couldn't tell the adults apart if I had to. I stare at the eaglecam, trying to see if there's some distinguishing feature on the adult. There isn't.

Then Dad blurts out again, "WAIT, WAIT......"

I wait.

Dad moves in for a closer look. I just sit and watch him, amazed and curious all at the same time.

"NOPE, NOPE. THAT'S THE SAME PARENT."

"Really Dad? (pause) Really?"