One of my favorite stories of all time:
Our whole family was in Italy, and had gone out to an absurdly large dinner. Which reminds me that dinner itself is a story--mostly, that for dessert, each person ordered two different desserts, which pretty much horrified the delicate waiter. When he got to my dad, the last to order, my dad just said, "Oh nothing for me, thanks," as if this were a typical situation for him, a man of restraint saddled with his indulgent family. Before we ever got our desserts, the waiter brought the chef out to gawk at us. But I think he was disappointed by how not-obsese we turned out to be.
Anyway, that night, I got food poisoning, and even though I was 19, I went to get taken care of by my parents in the next room. I slept in their bed all morning, which had a view of Lake Como, while they came in and out. When I woke up, my was dad looking out over the lake through a pair of binoculars. While he thought no one was listening, still looking through the binoculars, he waved his hand across the view and declared, "Aaaaaallll you ducks, get off my lake"
My dad was such a weird dude. I feel so lucky about that.
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