dad was quite possibly the worst blueberry picker, ever.
i, on the other hand, kick ass (and i'm not just saying that - i really do.)
considering i inherited all of my berry picking abilities from him, it boggled my mind that my dad sucked at it so bad.
in the time it took me to pick 4 huge bowls of perfectly blue berries, he would have 1 bowl barely filled, chock full of pink berries, leaves and twigs.
me: what the heck are YOU DOING? what's taking you so long?
dad: what? i'm picking!
me: ummm...mom isn't going to be happy when she has to pick out all those pink ones.
dad: what pink ones?
me: dad. seriously. you suck at this.
the first summer that i wasn't living at home, dad picked all of the berries for mom.
the next summer, mom was begging me to pick hers because she was tired of dad's less-then-perfect picking techniques.
he may have really sucked at picking blueberries.
and i always had to go through his bowls once he was done so mom wouldn't have to deal with it.
but i really miss his company while i'm picking.
i think cash may have inherited dad's picking style - he only picked the pink and green ones and spent most of the time next to me, eating out of my bowl.