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dragonlady7via http://ift.tt/2qG0a2z:singelisilverslippers replied to your post “A Jeep just rolled in the driveway and I could instantly tell it was…”
are your dad and my dad long-lost kindred spirits? because my father has done that.
lazaefair replied to your post “A Jeep just rolled in the driveway and I could instantly tell it was…”
I only hope I ascend to that level of don’t-give-a-fuck when I reach his age.
Here’s the context I didn’t include: I wasn’t sure that Jeep had a stereo. My folks are not… into music.
But if there’s one genre of music Dad has ever listened to, it’s pipe band music, because he was in one as a teenager, and he’s never really gotten over it. (He still plays, occasionally, indifferently; mostly for family events. He has protested that he’s not all that good, but here’s the thing: it’s bagpipes, they’re an instrument of war, not music, so you don’t have to be very good at playing them. As long as you’ve mastered the basic technique. And really, he’s fine at it, he’s just not competitive-pipe-band fine at it, nor does he really want to be.)
My dad has… a finely-rationed set of fucks that he gives in relatively predictable fashions. Some things, it is not possible for him not to care too much about.
He has, however, never for a moment in his life really had a spare fuck to give what people think of his taste in music, fashion sense, or that sort of thing.
…
In the ensuing conversation he offered to give me a tomahawk that he’d found among his Rev War re-enactment effects. (“It’s not mine,” he said, “the one I have was hammer-forged for me by that German smith, this one’s probably commercial, but it’s a nice hatchet, really.” “I can use a tomahawk,” I said, being a person who sleeps alone in the woods in a canvas-walled house for months on end less than two miles from the place a murder victim got dumped last summer. “They’re nice because you can use them on firewood, which you can’t with a sword,” he said.)
(Unrelated conversation: one of the farm hands said of Farmbaby, “I think she’d make a good mercenary, she has such a keen eye and a clear sense of things.” I considered that for a moment, and said, “That’s it, then, we’d better teach her the way of the sword,” which for some reason everyone else thought was really funny. Come on though, she’s already three, that’s already too old for some of the traditional ways!)
are your dad and my dad long-lost kindred spirits? because my father has done that.
lazaefair replied to your post “A Jeep just rolled in the driveway and I could instantly tell it was…”
I only hope I ascend to that level of don’t-give-a-fuck when I reach his age.
Here’s the context I didn’t include: I wasn’t sure that Jeep had a stereo. My folks are not… into music.
But if there’s one genre of music Dad has ever listened to, it’s pipe band music, because he was in one as a teenager, and he’s never really gotten over it. (He still plays, occasionally, indifferently; mostly for family events. He has protested that he’s not all that good, but here’s the thing: it’s bagpipes, they’re an instrument of war, not music, so you don’t have to be very good at playing them. As long as you’ve mastered the basic technique. And really, he’s fine at it, he’s just not competitive-pipe-band fine at it, nor does he really want to be.)
My dad has… a finely-rationed set of fucks that he gives in relatively predictable fashions. Some things, it is not possible for him not to care too much about.
He has, however, never for a moment in his life really had a spare fuck to give what people think of his taste in music, fashion sense, or that sort of thing.
…
In the ensuing conversation he offered to give me a tomahawk that he’d found among his Rev War re-enactment effects. (“It’s not mine,” he said, “the one I have was hammer-forged for me by that German smith, this one’s probably commercial, but it’s a nice hatchet, really.” “I can use a tomahawk,” I said, being a person who sleeps alone in the woods in a canvas-walled house for months on end less than two miles from the place a murder victim got dumped last summer. “They’re nice because you can use them on firewood, which you can’t with a sword,” he said.)
(Unrelated conversation: one of the farm hands said of Farmbaby, “I think she’d make a good mercenary, she has such a keen eye and a clear sense of things.” I considered that for a moment, and said, “That’s it, then, we’d better teach her the way of the sword,” which for some reason everyone else thought was really funny. Come on though, she’s already three, that’s already too old for some of the traditional ways!)
