Humor – Page 7 – Sidewalk Face

Hammers and Light Bulbs

November 10, 2020March 15, 2021by Sidewalk Face at Eagle-Crow-Owl4 Comments

My husband had the tool kit out because he was installing a shelf for our son. I noticed (because oh boy, I am forever noticing things) that it was stuffed to the gills. Just overflowing with..with…with what?

I start pulling everything out. Do we need five hammers? Twelve pliers? We have fourteen tiny eye glass screw drivers. How am I under the impression we had none? More importantly, why are there lightbulbs here? With the hammers? Why are the lightbulbs and hammers being stored together? That’s like storing the raw hamburger meat inside the milk cartoon with the milk. Or housing the puppies with the tigers.

This is what happens when you aren’t vigilante. You make money, nurture a child, show up for a friend and boom! The hammers and lightbulbs are cohabitating. Where are my priorities?

So I said to husband, let’s spend an hour tomorrow morning fixing this. Oh, my bad, I meant all day. Just the length of time it takes to sort 400 screws in 25 varieties abiding in 20 different locations. Did you have other plans?

In a world where this was my only domain, I’d ace it. I’d be a sexy comforting one-woman home depot. Imagine I live in the closet. Husband opens the door. Hey hon, can you hand me a 9 x 2 in. Star Drive Round Head? Here ya go big boy! Thanks so much for fixing the garage door! I love you!

I can do anything if only I can just stay focused on it. But nobody has time to babysit screws and so they propagate wildly and invade the storage area like kudzu. There is no where they don’t go.

A few other observations. The toolbox, which is used every single week, was relegated to the worst possible closet real estate, literally behind a big plastic drawer that holds batteries, tape and crepe streamers. What do you think is used more often, screwdrivers or birthday streamers? You said streamers, us too, let’s give those the CEO parking space. The tools can hoof it to the bottom of the ten-level parking garage.

The final WTF was a box of DVD backups from 2005 that were easier to access than the tools. Who negotiated their primo lease? What even is a DVD backup? Oh yes, it’s coming to me. You burn files onto them like a mini hard drive so that if your computer dies you still have this valuable information. What is the valuable information that is easier to access than the vacuum cleaner attachments? Deliverables from a job I did 14 years ago? Yeah, that makes sense.

I shared these thoughts with husband and he reminded me how we came to have so many hammers. On a dog walk he came across a bag of hammers. You know the proverbial “dumb as a bag of hammers”. That kind of bag of hammers. Seven identical hammers in a thin plastic shopping bag. What’s the story there? I can’t even begin. You know what’s dumb as a bag of hammers, picking it up, bringing it home and putting it in the toolbox.

To fix something this fakakta you have to start completely over. Everything has to come out, be handled and considered. It’s a royal pain in the ass. Makes you doubt everything you believe in. But when it’s done! Ahh, you can hear the angels sing and the glory lasts. For at least a month or two. Until someone doesn’t put a screw away.

Humor, Parenting, Relationships

Silver Lining Fail and Some Unexpected Good Advice

November 1, 2020March 15, 2021by Sidewalk Face at Eagle-Crow-Owl2 Comments

I was talking to my mom on the phone yesterday and broached the holidays. I haven’t wanted to face it. She’s been coming here every year for 18 years. Not being together is a big deal. I said, well, maybe that’s the very unexpected silver lining of this horrible election season, I’m so upset about that I can’t be upset about Christmas. She says, good job turning lemons into unsweetened lemonade.

At least there’s humor.

She got it from my grandmother, who was a formidable woman. Maybe scary. She was a scary woman. She didn’t laugh so much as cackle. My grandmother was a Texan, the type that lived without air conditioning, in Texas. She and my grandfather lived on a farm/ranch as far away as the moon. It took a long time to get there. If, say, you forgot to get bread at the grocery store, then your dinner wasn’t going to have bread. It was three weeks to the nearest anything. My grandmother served dinner late. She said people will eat anything if they’re hungry enough. You can work out in your own mind whether or not she was a good cook.

If anyone told my grandmother what she “had” to do. Her reply was: I don’t have to do anything but die.

Okay grandma. Noted!

Back to my mom, I found the big insect on the day of the dead skull in the picture above while talking to her on the phone. I mostly call her while I walk the dogs because I like to walk and talk. I was telling her I wanted to take it home but feared it would get crushed in my purse. If you’ve been reading this blog, specifically the last three posts, you know my purse is currently NOT overstuffed! It’s actually understuffed. There was nothing hard and protective I could put this fragile fellow in. She suggests I blow air into a doggy poop bag and let the air be the protective barrier. Genius! It worked like a charm. Who else can I turn to for this level of quality advice? No one! I love you mom.

Happy Día Day Los Muertos. I never want you to be gone but you can rest assured that when you are, I will remember you.

Creative Process, Humor

How to Chew a Bloody Glove, Advice Only My Mom Would Give.

May 9, 2020November 17, 2021by Sidewalk Face at Eagle-Crow-OwlLeave a Comment

My mom sent me a video of herself with some crimping pliers crimping away at the discolored index finger of a leather glove. She’d cut herself while landscaping and bled so much inside the glove it stiffened up. She said she was crimping rather than chewing to return pliability to the leather. According to her, chewing leather is a known way to soften it up but she thought she’d give this a try first. She felt compelled to share this top tip with me in case my own leather work gloves become inoperable due to injury. Thanks Mom! No one looks out for me like you do!

I’m so proud of her. Still doing yard work in her 70’s, still creatively problem solving, still making me laugh. Love you Mom! You’re a role model. You’re my hero!