FATHER’S DAY

FATHER'S DAYIt’s almost dad’s turn to be celebrated. Here’s your Father’s Day party roadmap, which should really be celebrated outside by the pool.

EAT: If your dad is like mine, steak is his meal of choice. If your dad is really like mine, he’ll want to grill it himself.

DRINK: Cold beers displayed neatly.

BAKE: Bourbon pecan pie with chocolate and let’s add some ice cream for good measure.

MAKE: Buckets of candles (citronella preferred) so you can party into the night.

WEAR: A comfy but adorable dress.

AROUND THE FATHER’S DAY TABLE

Here’s a little last minute inspiration for your upcoming Father’s Day celebration. Dads are great and they deserve pretty things too.

around the father's day table // emily hill events1. Raw wood placemat // 2. Stacking plate // 3. Accent plate // 4. Wooden serving set // 5. Spots and scribbles napkins // 6. Black and white platter // 7. Faceted wood bottle stopper // 8. Clear pitcher // 9. orange ramekins // 10. Windowpane glasses // 11. Sleek playing cards // 12. Horse cake plate

I associate orange with my dad and I have two theories as to why: one, it’s the color of our favorite sports team (Go Pokes); two, it’s the signature color of Home Depot. Regardless, a pop of orange mixed with neutral and natural elements makes a perfect Father’s Day set up.

I love that the black and white tray mimics a papa’s tie and the windowpane glassware (I can’t get enough of Kate Spade Saturday’s home line) makes me think of a shirt my dad wore to work when I was a kid. My father isn’t specifically into horses (and they actually terrify me) but that cake plate is insane. Those orange ramekins would be perfect for serving desert a la mode. Finally, dads like games (at least mine does) so playing cards are fun addition.

Happy Daddy’s Day!

OH BARN IT

I love my Dad.

This isn’t him. This is Thomas Friedman. My Dad looks quite a lot like Mr. Friedman so if you’ve never met Poppa Joe, you can just imagine he looks a lot like what you see above.

My Dad, like my Mom, is great. I could write a novel about how generous and kind he is, about how I have his sense of humor and how I wish I had his patience. I could tell you about how he wants to write a coffee table book about barns when he retires and about how he wants to name the book Oh Barn It.

I could tell you about how my Dad is insanely creative and how he can build incredible things. I could illustrate that inspired handiness by telling you about the house he made for my American Girl doll. (I had Samantha by the way and this is basically why).

I could tell you about how my Dad is a wealth of worthless knowledge and about how he introduced me to my favorite show of all time. I could tell you about the time my parents took me to D.C. when I was 17 and he made sure The West Wing theme song played as we crossed the Key Bridge.

But I won’t. I won’t tell you the extent of awesomeness that is my Dad. I wouldn’t want you to be jealous that he’s not your Dad.