OK. Let me preface my comments by saying that I am not whining. And, while I do believe a more traditional testosterone driven thought pattern would simplify much in my life, I am both content and happy with me the way I am. Secondly lent me say that as I point out others reactions to my eccentricities, I am not judging them or finding any fault. I am merely making observations of what I perceive to be normal males.
I’ve lived in this house for a little over 2.5 years. For nearly 2 years of that our ice maker did not work. Why? There was a leak in the water line to it. I knew exactly where the leak was. We went without because I was intimidated by the prospect of replacing the entire waterline. Moving out appliances, snaking line without crimping and causing a new leak. I eventually hired my Amish neighbor and best friend Joe to do it. I bought the entire replacement kit. He opened it pulled 3 prices, cut out the leak, and spliced the ends back together. Total labor time? 15 minutes testing and all. Why didn’t my brain think of this? Was I embarrassed? No, it’s Joe. He knows I’m not right.
I’ve been trying to buy some tobacco sticks for use As tomatoes takes for two weeks now. Then something in my brain hiccuped and said u have a miter saw and a huge pile of cedar 1 x 2 scraps……make your own. So that’s what I did this evening. All by myself. No help. And I can still count to 10 on my hands. I am so excited. I wanna tell someone… To brag. Unfortunately, not to many people get excited when a grown man uses his own power tool to cut a stick.
Sean: Dad! I used my miter saw to cut tomato stakes all by myself!
Dad: (pregnant pause) uhhhhh…that’s good.
It just doesn’t seem to work no matter how you play it. I could tell Joe. He gets me or maybe just feels sorry for me. He pushes me to develop man brain. Even told me he would not build me a barn door. Says I have to start doing things for myself. And I’m gonna build that door too. You watch and see. A barn door is ALLOWED to be crooked.
Speaking of pregnant, this is a picture of my 8 month pregnant daughter Brontë weeding her green beans while I drove my tomato stakes today.
And these are cookies that Joes wife Ida made and gave me in trade for eggs that my chickens laid and I gave her. I think I got the long end of that deal. I love her cookies.