Apr 8, 2008

Xzibit A

There's this joke that people love making about my dad being, not a botanist, but a CIA agent or something equally as sneaky. And I can't deny, it makes sense on lots of levels:
-we have to drop him off at the gate far away from his office door because we don't have 'security clearance'
-he's been to area 51
-when asked what he REALLY does, he often responds with somethingorother about 'counting spooks'
-he still remembers how to do college calculus/AP stats/etc.
-he keeps flying to washington, d.c. for weeks at a time

Then there are the counter-arguments: 
-He can grow really good tomatoes in Henderson, NV. Which, takes quite a bit of skill, if not the doctorate degree he claims to have acquired (i've never seen any physical documents) 
-He makes convincingly abrupt stops while jeeping to check out some type of rare species of something
-He has this giant plant press and collection that he keeps in the garage and works with/on sometimes
-He has helped produce 'can-i-keep-this-to-show-it-to-other-students' worthy plant collections for 8 children and numberless neighborhood middle-schoolers

I've weighed these facts many times in my life. A CIA agent everyone thinks is a botanist? Or a botanist that everyone thinks is a CIA agent? Either way, it's a pretty cool gig. But, supposing he is a botanist, there is one thing that has never added up to me—why can't I, the daughter of a botanist, keep houseplants alive? Shouldn't I have some sort of ingrained ability to care for my cyclamen? I've always associated my love of all things botanical to my dad's. But shouldn't a tad of that skill of his transfer as well? Huh? Think about it.


Jill said...

Ha...I can still remember when we were young asking you what your dad's job was and it was this same round about answer! I love the post! That dave is mysterious.

bec said...

i think house plants don't count? that's why you can't figure it out.

lindsay lark said...

It's okay, I still don't now what my dad does either.