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Posts Tagged ‘Computers’

“F***ing son of a bitchin’ bastard.
– Charlie, regarding computer

Pots, pans, potatoes, and pie were all strewn about the kitchen counter – intermingled with Dad’s laptops and random computer parts – in preparation for an early thanksgiving feast. I could tell Charlie was eager to dig into turkey with all the fixins, though he masked it well beneath the usual LOUD shouting, cursing (see above quote), and tinkering with his latest eBay acquisition.

There are few things Dad enjoys more than a thanksgiving banquet. Unlike Mexican food (see Charlie’s Top 5 Worse Restaurants list) it complies with his strict definition of a traditional dinner – meat, potatoes, and a veg – with the added bonus of gravy, cranberry sauce, and of course pumpkin pie for dessert. While it would run a very close second to his favorite homemade food of BBQ grilled hamburgers, he does seem to have a keener appreciation for the added effort of the bigger meal.

And considering what I have to put up with to make this, or any meal for that matter, he damn well should.

Motivation Mantra

Before embarking on this culinary adventure, for me the added effort requires a great deal of motivation. Lucky for me that there’s nothing more inspiring than listening to Charlie repeatedly break out the f-bomb from five feet away. In fact, between his ranting, that annoying “dink” sound from his constant keyboard and/or mouse button clicking, and my waning tolerance for all of the above, cooking for Charlie has become a bit like attempting a 12 Step Program:

Me: “Give me the serenity to…”

Dad: “(Dink) How many times do I have to sign in, you a**hole?”

Me: “…accept the things I cannot change about Dad…”

Dad: “(Dink) Well, COME ON!”

Me: “…the courage to put up with the things I can, and the wisdom to…”

Dad: “(DINK! DINK! DINK!)”

Me: “I WILL BEAT YOU IF YOU DON’T STOP CLICKING THAT DAMN BUTTON!”

This Is Not A Recipe

In keeping with the 12-Step theme, the following is Natina’s 12-Step Guide To Turkey Dinner for Dad. *Please note: Unlike salt, trial and error is not optional.

To start, you’ll need some ingredients. As to what kind, I’m sure you’ll figure it out as we go along.

  1. Ignore Dad’s complaints about a malfunctioning hard drive and arrange 1.5 lbs of turkey breast in a pan (’cause a whole turkey takes too long and is too friggin’ big for just two people). Season with olive oil, lemon, rosemary, garlic, and onion. Oh, and don’t forget the Johnny Seasoning Salt. It goes with everything. Add some sliced carrots and celery too for the hell of it and toss it all into a 325°F oven for 45-60 minutes.
  2. Slip wine to help block out the cursing, then peel and cube the potatoes. Add to a pot with water and heat to a boil. Simmer over medium heat until they’re soft, but not mushy. When ready, mash and mix with butter, salt, pepper and milk.
  3. While Dad abuses a Toshiba, save some time by following the microwave directions on the box of Stove Top Stuffing.
  4. Realize that you forgot to pick up cranberry sauce at the store.
  5. Don’t tell Dad that you forgot the cranberry sauce.
  6. Gravy packet says it only takes like a minute to make, the same amount of time Dad claims it’ll take for me to help him locate the missing drivers (whatever that means). Awesome.
  7. Refill your wine glass.
  8. When the turkey juices run clear, reduce heat and toss all completed food items in the oven to keep warm while waiting for everything else to finish. Thank God, we’re nearly there.
  9. Debate about making corn because after 45 minutes the carrots are still hard. Remove carrots from the oven and sauté in a frying pan with butter until absolutely perfect. Then, when Charlie starts in on his most recent grievance with eBay, leave the room just long enough for the carrots to burn.
  10. Make corn.
  11. Now that everything is done, take the food out of the oven, and burn yourself… twice.
  12. After administering first aid to your burns, dish out and serve on the crowded kitchen counter. “DINNER’S READY, DAD!”

Seconds

Mentally and physical exhausted from all the hazards and Dad’s constant pre-dinner background noise, I pushed my empty plate away while Dad rushed back for more side dishes. “Good stuff!” he declared with a satisfied grin on his gravy smudged palate. It’s not often he goes back for seconds so this was a major compliment to the chef, i.e. me. He even took more stuffing, which he usually prefers to scowl at from afar.

It was a tough job, but a good meal if I do say so myself. I had to wonder, however, was the hour-long, stress-filled effort really worth it?

There’s Always Room for Pie

 

Once Charlie was finished stuffing himself silly, I gathered up all the plates, made a half-assed attempt at washing some of the dishes, then threw everything else in the dishwasher. Turning to Dad to advise him of dessert, I said: “Don’t forget, there’s pumpkin pie for later.” Despite the fact that he was clearly full, Dad quickly replied with gusto, “Oh! How much later?”

I had to laugh. Charlie can be rude, demanding, sexist, and so utterly frustrating you can find yourself at your wit’s end. But dammit, he does manage to redeem himself again and again with his oblivious attitude and inadvertent humor. So I decided to cut him some slack and a big chuck of pie (with a side of ice cream) before calling it a day. I have to accept that Dad will not change. The best I can do is to try to maintain my serenity, ignore what I can, and cherish the wisdom that one day I will be moving out.

Photo credit: juptierimages.com

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jupiterimages.com

Having a garage sale, yard sale, boot sale, or whatever you wanna call it sale is a great way to get rid of accumulated crap. It’s also, I discovered one warm weekend in July, a great way to learn more about my dad, Charlie, and the wacky people interested in buying both his and our assorted crap.

I made the signs, set up and wiped down all the tables – which had been stored outside for some unexplained reason and thus were covered in dirt and spider webs – and woke up bright and early with my sister, Leigh, on a Saturday morning to mind the shop set up in Dad’s garage for the next two days. We were already at a disadvantage; exhausted from staying up ridiculously late the night before to organize and then drive around under the cover of darkness (to hide our shame) putting up the signs in the neighborhood. We were also forced several times in the days leading up to the big sale to assure Charlie this was indeed a good idea and that having strangers looking through our crap would in no way hamper his ability to replace the crap we’d hopefully get rid of with more worthless crap in the future.

Not surprisingly, the 8-10 computer towers (from Dad’s assortment of 100+) we put out were not popular. While they were fully refurbished with updated components and boosted memories, they still physically looked like freak computer towers made from the parts of lesser computer towers. Even one techie nutter/customer, who gleefully explained the humble progression of his own tower addiction by saying, “One, two, three storage units later…” chuckled at the sight of them and turned his back in snobbish disgust.

But the laptops? They were another story entirely. (more…)

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Pet Peeve #5: Empty toilet roll. Why do you hate me so much?

When you live with someone long enough, they can do things, even little things, to really get on your nerves.

Examples:

Growing up with my two sisters we fought over clothes, bathroom time, and whose turn it was to do the dishes.

Husbands are also a great source of pet peeves; never refilling the toilet paper roll, leaving wet towels on the furniture, and flossing their teeth anywhere but in the bathroom.

And my late mother, she HATED when you’d read a book without a light on behind you. If you really pissed her off Mom would usually react one of two ways:

  1. Respond sarcastically to questions like, “Where are you going?” with, “Crazy, that’s where!”
  2. The silent treatment.

Mom was a pro at “2.”

These pet peeves and others are minor inconveniences we put up with every day. Whether it’s finding toenail clippings or coffee stains on the counter for the 1,876,435 time, we supposedly love these people and are willing to bite our lip because we know their good qualities far out weigh the bad. Besides, none could be so irritating as to cause a mental break, right?

Then comes Charlie.

Pet Peeve #4: Drama Queens and/or generally anyone on Reality TV.

I love my dad. He’s often thoughtful, funny, and tolerates me eating his food and using his washing machine while I’m visiting in exchange for home cooked meals, cleaning, and, I assume, my sparkling personality. That said, however, Charlie also has some seriously grating aspects to his personality that can be beyond irritating and could nearly drive a sane person to tears.

Perhaps that’s what was causing Mom to go ‘crazy’?

I’ve begged him, I’ve pleaded. Still no change in his behavior.

“Dad, could you please turn the music down?”

“DAD. I’m sitting right here. You really don’t need to yell.”

“Could you PLEASE STOP leaving your wires everywhere? Someone is going to trip over them and kill themselves!” (Close calls happen about a half dozen times a week.)

“Are you aware you just said ‘Son of a bitch’ five F*CKING times in the last five F*CKING minutes?!”

The thunderous snoring. The TV at full volume, coupled with his refusal to replace the battery in his hearing aid. The pointing at his non-existent wrist watch at the stroke of 12 noon and 6pm to not-so-stubbly indicate he’s ready for me to make food. I’ve bitten my lip and lived almost blissfully with all of these “minor inconveniences” for weeks. Then the day came when I discovered the biggest potential Dad-related pet peeve of all: A disrespectful sound used to cut me off in mid-conversation. That’s when I mentally broke and the Mexican Standoff or, in our case, German Standoff began. (more…)

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davegraff.com

It’s pretty well established at this point that my dad, Charlie, is addicted to computers or – more specifically – “fixing” them. It has also been stated that while Dad is unquestionably knowledgeable in the area of electronics from the 1970s, he lacks the required formal expertise in modern-day computers and related technology. These facts, coupled with his stubborn refusal to admit his aforementioned limitations, more often than not, lead to disaster.

I wish I was making the following story up. I assure you, I am not.

Charlie’s latest forage into the realm of attempted computer repair came at the expense of a young woman’s poor, defenseless Toshiba laptop. The woman, an acquaintance from church, heard through the grapevine of Charlie’s hobby and asked if he would mind taking a look at her broken laptop screen.

One broken laptop screen? Check. (more…)

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Before traveling in from Europe (where I’ve lived the last few years) to embark on my Summer With Dad, I developed my own bizarre addiction: Sewing.

What started as a basic need to hem a pair of pants became a full-time fixation on material and thread. At one point, I actually found myself bargaining, though I’d started my day a slave to the needle at 9am, that if I just angled the table right I could still interact with family and friends well into the night while also maintaining a steady rhythm of stitches.

Is that any more weird than Charlie’s obsession with computers? Will I too find myself eventually surrounded by hundreds of machines in various states of disrepair? And why couldn’t I fit the damn thing into my checked baggage?

So shortly after I arrived, and without my trusty sewing machine (twas too heavy for the ole carry on as well), I had to find a way to feed the monkey. (more…)

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To know Charlie is to be well aware that he has a terrible addiction. For the last several years, this addiction has become increasingly debilitating and all-consuming. As with most unhealthy obsessions it hurts not only Dad, but his family as well. To be honest, this tragic situation has us all living in our own personal Hell. The number of bruises and stubbed toes alone…!

Yes, I’m ashamed to say that my father is addicted to computers. Not the Internet, mind you, though he does seem to download viruses (usually unintentionally) from less “respectable” websites a little too often. (How he keeps finding them, I’ll never – and don’t want to – know.) For Charlie, being able to get a computer on the Internet or play Hearts is only the end game. What he is addicted to is the collection and dismantling of PCs, laptops, or anything with an artificial pulse. (more…)

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