BRT, in which we Have This Conversation:

Me: I broke a drum stick.
Elder Holdaway: Huh?
Me: I broke a drum stick. Playing the drums. The boys asked me to play the Power Rangers theme song, so I did, and I broke a drum stick.
Elder Holdaway: But I thought you hadn't played drums in two years.
Me: I hadn't, but then on a whim I set up my drums and, well, there you go. By the way, I had totally forgotten how it feels to break a stick. It's really satisfying.
Elder Holdaway: Everyone always said I played too loud, or too hard.
Me: Or too fast?
Elder Holdaway: Yeah! Or too fast.
Me: I still do.
Elder Holdaway: Good. Good for you.

Dad, in which We Honor Him

Soon enough, Elder Holdaway will make another appearance, and we'll chat.

But today, with Father's Day being tomorrow, this:

"They broke my watch."

"Who wants an orange whip? Orange whip? Orange whip? Three orange whips!"

"Uh, Bob, uh, I think we've got a little problem."

"Are you the police?" "No, ma'am, we're musicians."

"You got my cheeze whiz, boy?"

"Hi, uh, what car number are we?" "Five five" "Car fifty-five, um, we're in a truck."

"This is glue. Strong stuff."

"I've always loved you."

"There's a lot of space in this mall."

"Four fried chickens, and a Coke."

"It's a hundred and six miles to Chicago. We've got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it's dark, and we're wearing sunglasses." "Hit it."

"Jake, Jake, I gotta pull over."