My dad

is really something else.

We were texting just this afternoon and I was telling him about my unusually busy (not that it's ever been not busy, just that it's been especially busy) and colorful week at work and he told me that he had just dismissed the foreman of the team of builders working on the new house because said foreman was reporting to work inebriated (which is, come to think of it, ground for termination). My dad is now acting as foreman. I have no idea what it is that a foreman does. But, there.

In my mind, I was, like, sheesh, Daddy, is there anything you can't do?

See, my dad is sort of a jack-of-all-trades, an all-around kind of guy, cosmopolitan, if you will, doing a little bit of this and that and everything else.

I remember being a first or second-grader and seeing the plan my dad had drawn of the house he was having built (which was ours). Awed, I asked him, "Daddy, did you draw this? You're goooood!" Even as a child, I was already a doting fan.

A few years back, when Friendster was still the "in" thing, I remember writing in my profile: "My dad is the one man whom I measure all other men against."

The loot: Erstwhile stage actor, Fisheries grad, one-time teacher, competent banker, talented singer/musician (he sings and plays the keyboards in his rock band and the church choir and he plays the guitar, too), architect/engineer, contractor, real estate broker, interior designer, Ping-pong champ, dancer, Art aficionado, guidance counselor, loving husband to my mom, wonderful, wonderful father to his three proud, adoring kids, and my steadfast saving grace.

Whew.

I told him, "Daddy, you are one tough act to follow."

And he is. He really is.