Today I'm taking my dad shopping for winter boots. He's had the same pair for over 30 years. From the age of 8 through 17, he was in an orphanage so he gets ALL he can (and then some) out of everything regardless of his and my mom's income. Those boots have been through my entire lifetime.
So he needs new boots.
Last night while talking to him on the phone, I asked him how much he expected new boots to be. Because, you see, my Dad is still on 1950's pricing. So new boots, to him, should be around $2 or so. When I told him that these new fangled fancy dancy boots would be at least $100. He had a stroke. "No, you're way off Kris" was his remark.
Now, I know shopping. I'm a damn professional at shopping. I also know winter clothes etc because we snowmobile. But apparently, I know nothing of new boots for my Dad. So when we're standing in Dick's (and can I just tell you I love saying that I'm going to Dick's?!) and my father sees that not only am I right, but that these boots? Yeah, they're not made as well as the 30 yr old pair at home. I know that he will begin to have one of his little tantrums which usually involves loud complaints about not only the price and quality of the boots, but also the general suckiness of Dick's (hee hee). Oh! And he won't let it go. Not only because he's stubborn, but because he was a Marine and, I've learned, they never let ANYthing go. Never.
It will be at that very moment in time, that all of you out there in the internets will hear my pain ravaged screeching. And even when I tell him that I will buy the boots for him, even when I try to settle him down without cracking him with a baseball bat, he will continue.
There's my Saturday in a nutshell folks. My Saturday without the girls who will be shopping at a big outlet with my mom and her weird Red Hat friends. My Saturday without Big Daddy who is taking in a Penn State game with his bff. My Saturday with my Dad and his god damn boots.