In case you live in a hole (or perhaps you don’t know this lovely couple), then allow me to officially announce to you that Jenna and Dave are engaged.  Running late, as usual, for their engagement party  I had a breakdown surrounded by piles of clothes ripped from the closet and strewn across the bed, the floor, the dresser.  How in the heck did all of my clothes shrink?  For the first time ever, being late could not be blamed on Scott (except at our wedding rehearsal but that one doesn’t count).  What was a rocky start quickly took a backseat as we pulled into Ceviche to celebrate the adored couple.

And adored they were.  By friends, by family… by each other.  Jenna and Dave, Mazel Tov! (Oh, and your dad would like for you to make babies)

And speaking of adored, our annual dad/daughter date to the Ybor Heritage Cigar Festival had arrived!  With my navy sundress picked out weeks in advanced, lips a puckered red and my derby hat in hand, I was ready for our day.  One of the only days in the year that I don’t feel rushed, I don’t feel pressured for time and I can let the hours escape me; the sun can set on this day without a twinge of guilt.  It’s my day with my dad – and every moment, treasured.

Our day began as we made our way to the trolley in Channelside in a half trot, half speed-walk push while flagging down the conductor, making sure he knew that we were serious about making this train.  And make it we did.

We made our first round through the festival, concentrating first on the prize possession of the day – our souvenir t-shirts.  Hey dad, “nice ash”!  Quenching our palettes with cold beer and Pipos Cuban delights, round two was in order.

This time we took it slow, weaving in and out of the cigar booths, carefully pinching at the tightly wound rolls and pressing them firmly into our noses to savor the sweet smell of the tobacco.  We would wait patiently for someone to notice our lingering eye then eagerly tell us about the Honduras leaves with the Nicaraguan wrapper, the 4 year aging and of course, the cliche show specials.  The friendlier the salesman, the more we purchased.

T-shirts, cigars and packages in hand, we were fulfilled… almost.  “Did you want to look at that hat again?” my dad asked as we were making our way through the chain-link gates.  “Ummm… Okay!” I replied as we popped a u-ey in the middle of the crumbly brick street.  It seems we both needed new hats.

And where the day would typically end for the yearly cigar-festival attendee, we still had one more stop to make.  We made our way over the trolley tracks, rumbling down 7th street while carefully assessing each curb cut on the way, seemingly more like launch pads than ramps, until we came upon it – King Corona.  We settled on a little table off the to the side and as we savored our coffees laced with caramel and cayenne pepper, puffing away our cigars (mine, a cigarillo), we delightfully watched as the colorful people of Ybor City marched by.

We were fulfilled.  It was a lovely day.

And as if the day hadn’t brought enough, an impromptu gathering of friends on our back porch, delightfully deemed “The Oasis”, brought the day to a close.  As we sipped wine and feasted on a spread worthy of any gourmet market, we laughed as we told stories of ghosts, first impressions, Jewish wedding traditions and more.  We wonder if Dave will ever run out of funny secrets about himself to share that leave our jaws dropped, gasping for words like “Are you serious?” and “Whaaaaatttt?” as we look to Jenna for some reassurance of acceptance of these crazy things. We savor these moments together.  The moments where memories aren’t measured by counting empty bottle corks from the night before, rather by waking the next morning and replaying conversations over and over in our heads, giggling out loud and grinning ear to ear.

Thank you Matt, Gen, Jenna and Dave for a grinning evening.