A while back we got ourselves a new stove.

My Dad tells me that he wanted our old, broken, does not work stove, which I thought was a bit odd.

"I'm going to use it as yard art," he explains, which I thought was even more odd.

But then I see it sitting there in the back corner of my parent's fifteen acres.

When I tell people the story, and show them the picture they say:

"Ah, so that's where you get it from."

Thanks, Dad.

Happy Father's Day.

I didn't write one of these for my Mom on Mother's Day.

Do I feel bad about that? Sure.

But then, I did get her a damn cute card about a little red-haired boy who loves his Mommy, so I think she's okay.

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