Tomorrow is Father’s Day. Father’s Day means steak. I like steak. There are few things better than a ribeye as big as your head getting seared during a brief stay on a grill at roughly nuclear temperatures. It’s a good thing.
I began the practice of giving my father the gift of beef for both Father’s Day and his birthday nearly 15 years ago, I reckon. I expect to be continuing the tradition for as long as he can chew. Yes, I realize it’s quite the cop-out having to give no more thought to getting him something than deciding if the steaks should be bought individually or from a whole ribeye. But he’s not a man given to the want of things. For some reason, he likes to have the family around – I suspect he’s not right in the head. He also likes steak, rarely has one, and knows that if I’m buying a ribeye for everyone, everyone’s likely to be on time for dinner. It’s funny how that works, huh?
In other words, I were to show up at the house tomorrow with a bucket of KFC and a brand new grubbin’ ho…wait, that’s grubbing hoe, he’d be appreciative, but a quietly disappointed deep down where one’s soul craves the primal enjoyment that only a big slab of juicy beast can provide. I would hate to ruin Father’s Day with a tie.
The Puddinette asked me recently what I wanted for Father’s Day, as rumor has it I have some children of my own. I will readily admit that I’m a pain to buy gifts for. I have the patience of a three year-old when I want something, which means I usually buy affordable things instantly. Expensive things are well, expensive things. So, with that in mind, I told her I wanted:
My best guess would be that if I get anything besides a smart remark, it’ll be the last thing on my list. An eBook reader would be a fantastic, but I’m picky about my toys; it couldn’t just be any reader, oh NO. It’d have to be something with a touch-screen that you can swipe to move pages. An iPad, of course, would be the preferred item, but that’s like asking Santa for a pot of Leprechaun gold. I’ll tell you right now, it’ll be cold day indeed when my wife drops more than 5 bills on a piece of technology for me.
Sure, maybe someday when I’m lighting cigars with George Washingtons she might be able to bring herself to it, but she was mad this week that she only coupon’d and sale priced her way to 40% off the total bill at the grocery. Spending that kind of money on something that doesn’t run on gas or include a roof runs counter to her genetic makeup. You might as well as her to sprout wings a fly.
I keep thinking that it’s somehow my duty to get up early tomorrow morning and play 9 holes before lunch. I need new golf clubs first, though, since my current set is so old it includes woods that are made of wood. Also, I’m not a huge fan of morning, period. Instead, I think I’ll stay up late and watch a movie or something and then sleep in for as long as my kids will let me. I’m hoping to make it to 9:30; that’s usually when the Puddinpop starts asking when I’m gonna get my “lazy bones outta bed”.