A Man, a Can, No Plan

This afternoon, my dad went to the store to buy some medicine. He came home with a box of Thera-flu, but also had managed to purchase a few things that he had not intended to buy when he left home (Note: He always feels the need to justify the extra purchases to me, though I could care less if he uses his own money to buy things that he wants. That's his prerogative, and I say, God bless him for it). In his entire life, I'm not sure he has ever been able to successfully visit the store without buying a few superfluous things in addition to the necessary ones; in that, he and my mother are completely alike (Likenesses with them are sort of a novelty, so there is need to emphasize their common traits). She at times will also buy things which are of no utility; oh yes, it's true. But who doesn't? (Note: If you ask her, she doesn't. Denial is as hereditary in the human race, I believe, as rationalization). So, my mom buys things which are about as superfluous as the things my dad buys; the difference lies in the fact that my mom will use coupons to buy her stuff, and my dad does not worry about trivial things like glossy pieces of paper that say "A $1.00 off two."

Today, though he had less useless things in tow than he usually does on foraging trips. One of the things he brought was 4.89 lb. premium pork roast that the meat man at the store had recommended. He came up to my room, I was working at the time, and the very first thing he said to me was:

"I need your help. I bought a pork roast for dinner. Do you know what to do with it?"

He had bought a pork roast so Mom would be surprised when she came home tonight. The problem: he did not know what to do with it after bringing it home. Yes, that is characteristic of my shoot-from-hip, non-domesticized father: buying something to be nice, but having no clue about what do with his purchase. Oh, well. I was able to help him anyway, and the roast is now in crock pot, smelling wonderfully. Just call me Iron Chef. Hai!

But I wonder, what would he have done if I had been unable to do something with his pork roast? The point: life needs spontaneity. It thrive on the adventure which spontaneity provides, but life also requires a certain amount of premeditation and foresight. Otherwise, the pantry will be forever full, and the children will starve regardless.