I am definitely my father's daughter

Dear Dad,
I've been having what I have now come to call a "Moe Day" in your honor. It's one of those days when I manage to have misadventure after misadventure, usually involving blood, bruises, mangled fingernails or all of the above. It all started last night when Jason and I were carrying Kathy's air conditioner up from her basement. Jason's end of the cardboard box let go and it landed on my shin. Ow. Ow, ow, ow. And did I mention ow? I woke up with a hellacious bruise on my shin, just above my foot.

This morning, I managed to step backwards into an open heating duct in my boss' house. No injury this time, just felt wicked foolish. And my boss freaked out and made me show him my foot to make sure I wasn't sprained or bleeding. That was embarrassing. Next on the agenda were some bridge repairs on the back side of the mountain. The planks are so bad on that bridge that they don't just break, they disintegrate if you look at them too hard. I was trying to get one of the planks off without damaging the one next to it, when it disintegrated and both I and the crowbar went over the side of the bridge and into the muck. Things were said that probably shouldn't have been, just as well there were only the trees to hear me. I pulled myself out of the mud and back onto the bridge and got a few more chunks of plank pulled up, along with the rubber that was laid over the stringers. I tried knocking the rubber off the nail by beating it with the hammer. You know how this ends, don't you? I thought you would. And yes, I did manage to hit my thumb with the hammer. No swearing this time, just a lot of screaming, once I got enough breath back to scream, that is. You know that saying you have: number than a pounded thumb? Well, I wish my thumb were numb, would certainly make opening doors and hitting the unlock button on my keys easier at the moment. I don't know if I'm going to keep the nail yet. Remind you of when I used to come visit? "Hey Dad! How many fingernails you got this time?" And just after all that, my bug repellent wore off right about then and the skeeters and deer flies descended in droves.

It was definitely a Moe Day. Wish you were still here, would have liked to have called you and we could have laughed about it together. The thing I kept hearing all day was you saying "Next trick?" Miss you, Pops.

Love,
Tami (definitely not the milkman's kid)