So, I gave Dad his birthday present:
Clearly bigger than a breadbox, and not shaped like the new Barbra Streisand CD (I'll save that for Hanukkah!). He opened the bag, and . . . one sock? Well, Dad, socks weren't created in a day, I'll have the second sock by Rosh Hashana. Ok, he said, and he tucked the sock back in the bag. I took the bag back. His face fell. I shrugged - it's just business - you want them to be the same size don't you?
But, then I found out that this was his second present that was kind of snatched back. My brother bought him some kind of new fangled remote for the t.v. that you talk to, and the channel changes. Great, the perfect gift for a 72 year old man - an excuse to talk to himself and not look foolish. Anyway, the remote didn't work, and it had to go back - another gift deferred.
My brother and I can't be blamed, though. What do you get for a 72 year old man? I'm 36. So, let's suppose that mom started buying him presents in my name when I was, say, 5. That's 2 gifts a year, for 31 years - that's 62 presents. And my brother, 34 years old, 2 gifts a year for 29 years, that's 58 presents - 120 presents. And my mom - 40 years with my dad - and that's 3 presents a year because of anniversaries - that's 120 presents right there -- for a grand total of 240 presents. For the love of God, what is left! What doesn't he have! So, he can just sit tight for those one of a kind socks.
And, here are the special socks:
And a closeup:
Ok, enough about the sock, right? What about the bris?
Everyone will be happy to know that all went well (at least it seemed to - when do you really know? - I mean many years have to pass before he'll actually try out the full capacity of the machinery). Baby Jake hardly even made a peep. Well, you would never know over the wails coming out of my 2 1/2 yr. old niece's mouth - she may as well have been screaming - LOOK AT ME DAMMIT! So, after the snippage, I took my niece to the basement, and missed my brother's speech. Eh, I've heard my brother speechify before - I think maybe he needs that special remote for the t.v. Missed the speech, but did not miss the cake. Hey, I know what's really important!
So, in the basement are of course, a million toys, but the "toy" of choice right now is her Thomas the Train set. Ok, I didn't get the Teletubbies, Mr. Noodle, or the Noo Noo, - the Teletubbies all seemed to be smoking weed to me. Ooo look, the sky is blue! And look, the grass is green! Giggle giggle - please, there's some doobie going around there. But I really don't get the train thing. Trains with creepy faces with strange names that all hook together and don't really do anything? This is the recovery car: And, this is Diesel: Hmmm . . . You can't play dressup with them - they're trains! You can't play school and give them homework, you can't play house - mommy train, daddy train and baby train? What can you play - train wreck? This doesn't seem like a great idea to me. What every happened to Weebles?