Dad: Mom wants a laptop like mine.
Me: Ok, I can find another.
Dad: I was thinking of getting something with a touch screen.  I don’t really like the keyboard thing.  I see ads for some pad computer that looks sharp.
Me: You want an iPad?
Dad: I think, I’ve got to try another thing.
Me: I did not pay the Internet bill for the last 8 years so you could waltz in with your fancy tablet like you own the god damn Internet.  If you’re going to learn how to use a computer, you’re going to use a big boy computer and unless you plan on also getting an espresso machine and a pair of Birkenstocks, you’re not going to get an iPad.
Dad: If I get one,  I’ll give you my laptop so you can give it to mom as a Christmas gift and avoid asking her what she wants.
Me: Deal.

Sometimes my dad is a latter-day Kissinger.

My parents divorced a few years ago and the response was a sigh of relief after the acrimony of what had been a five year separation process.  My father stopped celebrating anniversaries, exchanging gifts for birthdays, and writing Christmas cards as two lives had become neatly separated but recently, my parents have been spending time together, I think out of entirely practical reasons.  My father’s friends are slowly being picked off and my mother’s are rather static so they’re going out to eat, seeing museums, going to parks and other date-y things that drive my brother and I mad.  Today, I asked my father what he was up to and he said he was going across the street to use some piece of diagnostic equipment our neighbor had.  Later that day, I had car trouble and asked him “how’s the shop?”  he replied “fine” but I distinctly heard my mother’s parrot in the background.  I asked him if he was at my mom’s house and he said “maybe” and started giggling.

What kind of world are we living in where one’s dad can freely date one’s mom?  That’s just weird.

After my treadmill time today I went to take a shower and there was no warm water so I did my wuss shower using a wash cloth coupled with a sink to wash my hair.  I came down stairs and found on the door a note that said “Warm water off in our bathroom, use the other shower. -Dad”

Periodically my dad gets seized with a bout of “I’m going to fix this” which results in days lacking a basic resource, normally the casualty is our power supply or the water writ large.  Just the hot water is a new one, and I’m glad my dad has found new ways to temporarily break the house.

My father’s recently shifted his TV watching patterns away from “Hitler’s Secret Wizard Coven” to “Wipe Out”.  I first thought this was a bad thing, on review it’s caused some positive changes.

1) My dad’s learned how to use the DVR
2) He laughs more
3) I no longer deal with Tim Taylor-esque pidgins of things like “did you know that at Gaudalcanal captured GIs created a Gatling gun that used weasel teeth as ammunition?”

I’m most excited about the first as if this trend continues I look forward to showing my dad how to use BitTorrent to get back episodes of Takeshi’s Castle.

Me: My car seems to be making a weird noise when it shifts into second.  Who should I have look at it?
Dad: Just leave it here, I’ll take a look, take my keys.
Me: Anything I should know about the GMC?
Dad: Nah.
*walk outside to GMC, see dad slam his screwdriver (drink not tool) onto table and run to the car window*
Dad: There’s one thing.  When you hit 5 MPH the brake pedal will shake and suddenly shoot to the floor.  You’ll think you’re about to die, but you will stop safely if you hold your foot down.
Me: Thanks for the heads up.

My dad asked me to help him find a truck part online and we combined the skills of wading through PDFs, refining search results, and eschewing high shipping to get a price much lower than the manufacturer.  Next he asked me “where can I find used stuff online?”  So we turned to Craigslist and his skills honed from cracking open the “Penny Trader” and “Trade ‘n’ Times” for two decades came back.

“This guy isn’t legit, his photo’s from the Summit Racing Catalog”
“This guy says it’s his garage but based on the address I’m pretty sure it’s a parts dealer in Jersey City”
“This chick only has this stuff because she’s selling her husband’s stuff or because he died.  The stuff will be cheap but she has no idea  what she has”

Me: You’ve taken to this quickly.  How about we look for a used fridge to replace ours with?
Him: I will never own a used refrigerator.

Damn.

I talked to my brother to make arrangements for Fathers’ Day and he as an aside mentioned to me: did dad talk to you about his bladder cancer?

That’s a statement that implies a lot, like that my dad had cancer, and that my brother was told and not me.

Me: So, you had bladder cancer?
Dad: Yeah, nothing big.
Me: Sure, but you were peeing blood, and you had bladder cancer.
Dad: Everything worked out after I got the tumor removed.
Me: And none of this stuck you as something you should have told me?
Dad: You were driving, I didn’t want to distract you.
Me: I stopped driving four days ago.
Dad: *shrugs shoulders* I’ll try to remember to tell you next time.

I guess it’s a ringing endorsement for modern medicine that someone’s encounter with bladder cancer can be so dull that it slips under the conversational radar within ones own family.   Also, if this is below the barrier of notification, I hope this means that the little accumulated indignities of age like prostate issues and comb-over techniques also remain perpetually unmentioned.

Dad: Terry, I’m worried about your sleep schedule.
Me: Why?  I woke up before 9 every day for the last six.  I used to wake up at noon to go to work.
Dad: I know, but that’s a pretty sudden change.  It can’t be healthy.

I’m glad he’s concerned for me.

I tried to extend my run of not talking and was able to go through Lowes, the post office, the library (real easy), and the UPS store without talking or really having to interact at all.  I went to Taco Bell in an attempt to break my silence but was able to order by pointing to the combos listed on the counter.  Even beverage selection was without issue as I just got an empty cup.  At this point, my length of silence seemed to be limited only by how long I wanted to go without talking to my dad.  I did well at first just shrugging and smiling.  I don’t know if he knew what I was doing but he issued a statement I couldn’t let slide: I think the glucosamine supplements are helping Max.  My response very much made up for my time of quiet.

Any vow can be broken to stop woo.

My former employer kept me well stocked on hand cream.  Notionally, this was a prophylactic against bacterial infiltration but having never encountered any covered in bodily fluids I used it to keep my hands soft.  My excess stock made its way home and for the last few years my household  has also benefited from soft hands. Today, drought struck:

Dad: We’re out of hand cream, can you grab some more sometime? I liked the stuff you got last time.
Me: Nope.  Got those work.
Dad: How do we get more?
Me: Buy some, possibly Rite-Aid.
Dad: What other options?
Me: Steal it from a hospital.
Dad: Do you have anyone on the inside that can get us some?
Me:  Dad, man up and buy some hand lotion.