There are many advantages to being married to a Bob Vila type of a man. It comes in handy for a woman, such as myself, to conjure up creative ideas and difficult tasks and actually have someone around who can accomplish them.
With a tool belt on his hips and love in his heart, my beloved spouse has hung heavy mirrors on tall walls, rustic shelves above the windows and didn’t think me crazy when I asked him to suspend a buck wagon seat from the ceiling so it could be repurposed as a shelf.
That’s love at the highest level. The best part is, after lo these many years of marriage, I have picked up on a handy thing or two myself. I can run an impact drill, use a level with ease and drive a 16-penny nail home like it’s my job.
I am not skillful at any of it, mind you, but I can get the job done.
Sometimes I even loan my talents out to family and friends and with fall decorating in full swing, my skills are in great demand this time of year.
In fact, just last week I helped a friend suspend a wall hanging in her bathroom so that she could fully enjoy her fall passion.
“Say girl,” I said with enthusiasm as I prepared to work my magic, “have you any toggle bolts?”
“Toggle bolts?” she asked with trepidation.
“Yes!” I said, barely able to contain my excitement. “It’s one of those doo-dads you push through a large hole to anchor a large screw.”
“How do you patch the large hole?” she asked.
“Oh, you don’t,” I responded.
“I don’t?”
“Nope, you’ll be married to this hole.”
“But what do I put there when fall is over?”
“Uh, Christmas décor,” I said with an emphatic eye roll. I mean, who doesn’t have need for a seasonal toggle bolt?
It’s still in her wall, as near as I know, and even though her husband no longer speaks to me, one has to appreciate its staying power.
By and large, the person who is most unappreciative of my handy gal talents is my father. He breaks into a cold sweat at the thought of me in a tool belt, has been known to suffer hives if I am toting a hammer and had to be medicated when he caught sight of me hanging some old shutters on his dining room window a few years back.
Turns out the man has little or no appreciation for my rendition of shabby chic. That’s what I get for giving it my awl.
Although I am not as creepy as Jack Nicholson in “The Shining,” nail-fearing men, such as my father, might find me reminiscent of the image as I stick my head into the front door and announce with a large drill bit and a sinister grin, “Heeeere’s Lori!”
You show me someone who thinks that isn’t scary and I’ll show you someone who isn’t my dad.
He hasn’t been in love with my hammertoting ways since the great “shutter incident” of 2008 when I had to make compromises and “cheat” a couple of things to get the shutters to hang straight on the dining room wall.
In fact, Dad fell out of love with the whole project the very minute one of the shutters fell to the floor.
Thank heavens Dad wasn’t home this year as my mother and I screwed in a lovely display of wreaths and signs into the wall. We then threw a splash of fall foliage over a quilt rack, created a lovely vignette in the corner, and thanks to the power of an 18- volt battery, drove some wood pumpkins home above the front door.
We spruced the place up with some sprigs, stuck fall picks into creative places, and when push came to shove, we hung a large picket fence on the wall via a toggle bolt.
I’m not sure my father will ever appreciate the handiness of the seasonal toggle bolt Mom now has to display her hangings, but I feel I did a bang-up job.
Near as I know, everything is still intact, but until I can be sure, I’m going to keep my distance and give my dad time to “fall” in love with my creativity.
I just hope none of it lands on his head.
Lori Clinch is the mother of four sons and the author of the book “Are We There Yet?” You can reach her by sending an email to [email protected].