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We go through a funny ritual every Sunday. My dad loves red wine, but he's far too cheap to buy expensive wine for himself. On Sundays I always open a nice bottle for him. He tastes it then says, "Oh! That's nice! ... Don't tell me what you paid for it or I won't be able to enjoy it."
Dad lives less that a quarter mile away. Every Sunday he comes over about 6 PM. My three kids swarm him and give him hugs (even the teenagers). Grandpa loves that.
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My work here is nearly finished.
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