Before I go any further, in reference to Father’s Day, I must say this: I am not an easy person to buy things for. While the desire to acquire trinkets, toys, and gadgets was well-documented in my youth, age (and I hope, maybe, wisdom?) has led me to the realization that I need little to be happy. So, I don’t want for much besides the occasional few minutes of peace. Also, meat and beer, but that kind of goes without saying. Also, it gets to the other thing that makes me not easy to buy things for: when I do want something (say, meat or beer), I tend to get that something without much delay.
I’ve kind of always had poor impulse control. Which, incidentally, is why my youthful collection of trinkets, toys, and gadgets was so easy to document.
With that said, then, I have to brag on my family somewhat. They didn’t get Big Things for Father’s Day. Because, let’s face it, not only is a yacht not exactly in the budget, I wouldn’t know what to do with it anyway. So instead, they got me these things:
I could not be more pleased about it. Not only did Father’s Day replenish my waning supply of word-making reward M&Ms, they gave me a candy device that will standardize just exactly how many M&Ms I get when I hit each each day’s word count goal. I’ll get honest, in the past, the “handful” of M&Ms I’ve promised myself has probably been anywhere from 10 little round pieces to a quantity upwards of a quantum bajillion. Rounded up to the nearest tetrahydrojillion, of course.
Yeah, I’m thinking my girlish figure will likely appreciate a more regular dose for a day’s work. You know, since they don’t airbrush thigh-gaps into author photos (yet).
As for how I actually spent Father Day’s, I wasn’t entirely sure when the weekend kicked off on Friday if I was going to manage to survive it. Squeezing in a holiday among the usual list of weekend responsibilities is always a challenge, regardless of whether or not said day is theoretically devoted to Me Me Me! So while Father’s Day should have somehow meant a day of laying, sloth-like, horizontally across the surface of my couch, life rarely fulfills one’s wishful thinkings.
The thing is, while spending an entire day strewn across my sofa would have, indeed, been a marvelous thing, it would have also demonstrated a kind of selfishness I try to avoid. I’ve got a father, too, you know. As does the Puddinette. Meeting my lethargic potential might have been fun for a while, but it also would have been kind a dick move. There’s just no excuse for not paying just dues to the men responsible for teaching me, the wife, and even our kids about the world we live in.
Rather than be a self-centered pig, then, Saturday evening I grilled great hunks of ribeye for my dad and Sunday we had lunch with the Puddinette’s whole family. And while I’m a little surprised to hear myself admit that anything could be better than a day of lounging upon my furniture while sports, movies, and or naps occupied my hours, I’d say we did a fair deal better than the “doing nothing” I’d have managed if left to my own indolent devices.
The other thing is that Father’s Day isn’t really about having a day to do whatever (nothing) you choose without fear of being hampered or interrupted by the pesky wishes and needs of your family. I mean, sure, a day of living like a hermit has it’s attractions, but if that’s what you really wanted, wouldn’t it have been easier just to remain a bachelor?
Let’s be honest, I had plenty of sofa-strewn days in my mid-twenties. I’m not sure I consider them a good use of my time here on Earth in a carbon-based meat sack.
What I am sure of, though, is that when I took my older two sons to the batting cages and the driving range Saturday morning for some Sportsball Hitting of Many Varieties, I had about as much fun as I’ve had on a Saturday AM since back in the day when I’d get up at 7 AM to see if Scooby-Doo was going to guest star Batman and Robin or the Harlem Globetrotters that week.
Did I lounge this weekend in fulfillment of my most base, lazy desires? No, no I didn’t
Instead I spent my Father’s Day weekend being, well, a father, and I wouldn’t have had it any other way.