Today we celebrated the 75th anniversary of my father. Happy birthday, old man!
He doesn't actually read this blog because I've never told him about it. I'm pretty sure that if he did read it, he'd be fairly disappointed in my subject matter, sense of humor, and bosom fixation. He'd be left wondering why I waste my time on this and where his nice boy went. Those are good and unanswerable questions, so, let's let a 75 year old man enjoy his retirement, while his son enjoys his bosom fixation. Everybody wins.
Buying a suitable present for my father is damn near impossible. The man doesn't seem to have any respectable hobbies. He neither golfs nor speaks incessantly about breasts. What does he do with all his retirement time? Well, I think he spends many of his hours backing up the data on his computer, but he's already got all the gear he needs for that . (He has shelves covered with old floppy disks, drawers bursting with computer tapes, and a closet filled with zip disks. Additionally, although his latest computer has a dual-disk RAID disk array, he still performs comprehensive backups onto zip disks. I have no idea what all this "data" actually is. I sure hope it's porn.)
So, what do you buy for a guy like that? The one other activity we thought of that he enjoys is digital photography. He takes a crapload of pictures of his grandkids and lots of images from recent trips. So, the wife suggested that we could buy him some nice picture frames. That sounded better than buying him a book about the persecution of Jews, which is what I do most years.
We bought him a couple of nice-ish frames and wrapped 'em up all purty. My father carefully fingered the wrapped presents during his party today and correctly deduced what they felt like. "Oh! Pictures of Daisy!" he exclaimed happily before carefully removing the wrapping. The frames, of course, did not contain any pictures of Daisy BECAUSE HE ALREADY HAS A ZILLION OF THOSE, but rather of stock B-level photo models. He looked minorly disappointed and everyone laughed at our lame gifts.
Sorry, Dad. I'll do better on your next 75th. Love you!