Azure Jane Lunatic (Azz) 🌺 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
azurelunatic) wrote2003-12-05 12:08 am
azurelunatic) wrote2003-12-05 12:08 am
Gifts (or, what you get for the guy who already has everything)
My father has two great enthusiasms: technology, and creative things. He is a great believer in technological solutions to problems. ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
swallowtayle and I were making each other miserable with our conflicting tastes in music, and refused to wear headphones because our freedom would be constrained, he figured that he could solve that. He went out and bought two sets of wireless headphones. Each had an infrared transmitter base that plugged into the headphone jack of the stereo, and a headphone set with a rechargeable battery. It didn't quite work out the way he'd planned, but I was at least halfway happy with the solution.
So how does a broke college student who isn't living with her father find a need of his that can be technologically addressed, and address it? She really can't.
But she can get creative.
Once upon a time, FatherSir noticed that there was a common problem with parent and child, with almost every pair. They would be ready to leave, and then the parent would get trapped in a conversation. The kid would be bored and ready to go, or ready to run off and play, but as the parent was intending to remain only a few minutes in conversation, the parent would keep the kid right close by, and there was much pants-tugging and whining and shushing and general dissatisfaction.
FatherSir saw the opportunity in this, and came up with an idea. He purchased kitchen timers, and obtained permission to make reproductions of a black-and-white photo of children sulkily and patiently sitting around. He put together "Kids Waiting" kits, with instructions for use. The kid would, upon seeing a Kids Waiting situation, produce the Kids Waiting kit, and get the parent's attention (by holding up the photo). The parent and child would then set the timer for an agreed-on time (five minutes), and the kid could, with the timer, run off and amuse herself. When the timer went off, the kid would return, timer in hand, indicating that time was up.
From all reports, it worked decently well. That's the kind of low-tech innovation my father approves of -- fitting a need, personalized, and interesting.
I was walking home and pondering what it is that my father does and needs, and then it hit me.
swallowtayle and I attended the Fairbanks Summer Fine Arts Camp. Mama picked us up every day after camp. Camp let out at 4:50-ish, and Mama arrived in her car around 5:00, and picked us up. One day, Mama was unable to make it, so it was arranged that FatherSir should pick us up instead. swallowtayle and I went merrily off, and showed up in the appointed spot (the parking lot just north of the Fine Arts building) at the appointed time -- and no FatherSir! We eventually located each other. FatherSir had parked in the parking lot on the exact other side of the building (by the library), and was patiently waiting for us there. He grumbled that no one had told him where he was supposed to be, only when he was supposed to be there, and he had a 50% chance of getting the correct parking lot, and he'd picked the one that was less crowded, and had we rather that he parked down in the Pit? We explained that Mama always met us in the appointed place at the appointed time, and we had been expecting the same from him. He began grumbling about "the secret protocols of [Mama]", the hidden pitfalls where we would merrily fail to give him key information, assuming it was already known because Mama did it that way all the time. We, of course, thought it was hilarious, and "The Secret Protocols of" became a household catchphrase.
Also, FatherSir cooks. It's one of his hobbies. He's taken over quite a bit of the kitchen, and I really want his recipes. I was thinking about that on the way home, how I would really like a bread machine, so I could borrow his recipes and use them often. Then it hit me.
So...
I will need one sturdy binder, a sheet of contact paper, some ordinary paper, some small skill with calligraphy, and some page protectors.
I will place the page protectors inside the binder, possibly including recipes from the Temple on some papers inside. On the outside of the binder, I will use the contact paper to affix the paper, which will bear the calligraphed legend: "The Secret Kitchen Protocols of FatherSir".
He'll love it.
swallowtayle and I were making each other miserable with our conflicting tastes in music, and refused to wear headphones because our freedom would be constrained, he figured that he could solve that. He went out and bought two sets of wireless headphones. Each had an infrared transmitter base that plugged into the headphone jack of the stereo, and a headphone set with a rechargeable battery. It didn't quite work out the way he'd planned, but I was at least halfway happy with the solution. So how does a broke college student who isn't living with her father find a need of his that can be technologically addressed, and address it? She really can't.
But she can get creative.
Once upon a time, FatherSir noticed that there was a common problem with parent and child, with almost every pair. They would be ready to leave, and then the parent would get trapped in a conversation. The kid would be bored and ready to go, or ready to run off and play, but as the parent was intending to remain only a few minutes in conversation, the parent would keep the kid right close by, and there was much pants-tugging and whining and shushing and general dissatisfaction.
FatherSir saw the opportunity in this, and came up with an idea. He purchased kitchen timers, and obtained permission to make reproductions of a black-and-white photo of children sulkily and patiently sitting around. He put together "Kids Waiting" kits, with instructions for use. The kid would, upon seeing a Kids Waiting situation, produce the Kids Waiting kit, and get the parent's attention (by holding up the photo). The parent and child would then set the timer for an agreed-on time (five minutes), and the kid could, with the timer, run off and amuse herself. When the timer went off, the kid would return, timer in hand, indicating that time was up.
From all reports, it worked decently well. That's the kind of low-tech innovation my father approves of -- fitting a need, personalized, and interesting.
I was walking home and pondering what it is that my father does and needs, and then it hit me.
swallowtayle and I attended the Fairbanks Summer Fine Arts Camp. Mama picked us up every day after camp. Camp let out at 4:50-ish, and Mama arrived in her car around 5:00, and picked us up. One day, Mama was unable to make it, so it was arranged that FatherSir should pick us up instead. swallowtayle and I went merrily off, and showed up in the appointed spot (the parking lot just north of the Fine Arts building) at the appointed time -- and no FatherSir! We eventually located each other. FatherSir had parked in the parking lot on the exact other side of the building (by the library), and was patiently waiting for us there. He grumbled that no one had told him where he was supposed to be, only when he was supposed to be there, and he had a 50% chance of getting the correct parking lot, and he'd picked the one that was less crowded, and had we rather that he parked down in the Pit? We explained that Mama always met us in the appointed place at the appointed time, and we had been expecting the same from him. He began grumbling about "the secret protocols of [Mama]", the hidden pitfalls where we would merrily fail to give him key information, assuming it was already known because Mama did it that way all the time. We, of course, thought it was hilarious, and "The Secret Protocols of" became a household catchphrase. Also, FatherSir cooks. It's one of his hobbies. He's taken over quite a bit of the kitchen, and I really want his recipes. I was thinking about that on the way home, how I would really like a bread machine, so I could borrow his recipes and use them often. Then it hit me.
So...
I will need one sturdy binder, a sheet of contact paper, some ordinary paper, some small skill with calligraphy, and some page protectors.
I will place the page protectors inside the binder, possibly including recipes from the Temple on some papers inside. On the outside of the binder, I will use the contact paper to affix the paper, which will bear the calligraphed legend: "The Secret Kitchen Protocols of FatherSir".
He'll love it.
no subject
no subject
And it's also a not-so-subtle hint for him to write down some of the recipes for the things he makes.