My kids are always giving me a hard time for my “old-fashioned” phrases.
Our boys act as if I’m the only person in the world who says things like, “Don’t count your chickens before they hatch”; as if I’m the only one who offers, with great wisdom, that a leopard can’t alter its spots, so why try to un-ring a bell?
I don’t see what the big deal is. I mean, life is short, so why not go for broke?
I’m pleased as punch to proclaim that my phrases are not as old as the hills. In fact, most are as common as an old shoe. Still, my boys can’t believe that I say things like, “One brick short of a full load” or that a little bird told me that someone let the cat out of the bag.
I don’t know why these sayings should upset the apple cart. It’s not as if these things don’t actually happen.
Seriously. What better way to explain that I don’t have an endless cash supply than by declaring that money doesn’t grow on trees? I am downright proud of my cleverness as I respond to their request for cash by saying that they’ve milked the cash cow dry.
And I’m not the only witty one in the abode. No, sir. My beloved spouse, Pat, also makes use of clever idioms. He really knows how to cut to the chase.
And together, well, we can really chew the fat.
Take the other day, for instance, when we were working on a little project together. I’d like to state for the record that nothing says romance like a man and a woman in the garage laboring over a do-it-yourself task. But that’s another story.
I had my trusty drill, my set of bits, and a job to be completed. As Pat waited, I tried to take the Phillips-head out of the drill by turning the chuck the wrong way. Then I dropped the head and searched for it for a full three minutes.
“Eureka!” I exclaimed as I pulled it from a crack in the concrete and then proceeded to load a small drill bit. I must have looked as if I was all thumbs, but heaven help me, all I wanted to do was to simply drill a pilot hole into the wood.
My husband being a man who works with tools for a living and could drill a pilot hole in his sleep, Pat just couldn’t sympathize with my plight. Yet he said nary a word. Although any other man would get so mad that he could spit nails, Pat watched me with the patience of Job.
For a while anyway. It wasn’t until I completed the pilot hole, reloaded the Phillips bit, and proceeded to drive the screw in with a wimpy rat-a-tat-tat that he finally grabbed the drill from my grip and remarked, “I swear, it’s like a dollar waiting on a nickel.”
Isn’t that a fine how-do-you-do?
I didn’t truly feel that he had an ax to grind until I spent ten minutes in utter failure trying to pull a pin nail out of a board.
“For the love of Pete,” he proclaimed. “I don’t know why you can’t make heads or tails of it. It’s easy as pie.”
“No, sir,” I said in my defense, “it’s tough as nails.”
“The rule of thumb,” he informed, “is that if you can’t pull it out, hammer it on through.”
“So you’re saying, hit the nail on the head?”
“You took the words right out of my mouth.”
I eventually finished the task, and although I’m not one to toot my own horn, I must say I ended up doing a bang-up job of it.
When I share the experience with my kids, I’ll be sure to relate all of their father’s clever sayings.
Now that will truly be the icing on the cake.
Lori Clinch is the mother of four sons and the author of the book “Are We There Yet?” You can reach her at [email protected].