When I asked my dad what he wanted for his birthday, he responded, “Ice cube trays. The big cube ones, for whiskey. Maybe the spherical ones, too.”
...sure, Dad. You got it. I think it's kind of cool actually, to turn 66 and not really want anything more than ice cube trays. G status.
When I asked him what he wanted to have for his birthday dinner, if he wanted to go out or stay in, he requested cheeseburgers and hotdogs. I took care of the cheeseburgers (nothing fancy, recipe to follow), Pa & John brought hotdogs (some kind of veal situation with a great snap), baked beans, macaroni and cheese, and we had potato chips, fries, and a Boston creme pie. Dad spilled root beer all over himself (and the floor) and Mom put horseradish sauce on her burger. Pa and John bought him fancy crocs (*sigh) and, knee-deep in a food coma, we watched the Dimitri v. Murray match at the U.S. Open.
Happy 66th birthday, Daddy. I can only aspire to your level of cool.
(the ten second concept drawing of Dad and his birthday burgers)
A simple recipe for simple (but delicious) cheeseburgers