Fluff the Builder

I could never have married a man who couldn’t work with his hands.

I grew up watching my Dad and his friends constantly tinkering with something. I think they were trying to improve things. I’m not sure how they did, but they always seemed happy working outside, building and fixing things.

As a result, I can’t stand the idea of a man who can’t do basic car maintenance, fix things around the house without having to call in help or who pays to have everything done by someone else.

Prissy boys just aren’t my style.

I wouldn’t say my husband is exactly Mr. Fix It, but he knows enough about tools to build and repair things.

It’s also kind of fun watching Fluff work. It always turns into an event, partially because of his general lack of organization.

The kids (aka: Fluff) bought me rocking chairs for the front porch for Mother’s Day. Strange gift, perhaps, but something I’ve wanted for awhile and refused to buy myself.

After a week of them sitting in the kitchen in boxes (husband fail), Fluff decided to put them together.

Let the fun begin!

I should have been concerned when I walked in and found him reading the indirections. Every man knows that this is not part of the process. If you read the indirections, you won’t end up with extra parts, and everyone knows that you need the extra parts to put in the junk drawer.

But I didn’t judge. Because I’m not judgey like that. And, of course, because I wanted my chairs put together. A girl has to pick her battles, you know.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I did find this to be an interesting array of tools. I was intrigued by the kitchen knife, especially since I repeatedly saw Fluff opening little plastic bags with his teeth.

I never saw him use the knife, but I didn’t say a word about it. I’m still not sure why it was there.

 

 

 

Fluff spent an agonizing few minutes trying to put in screws with one of those frustrating little L-shaped things that come in the boxes of these type of items. You know the one. It’s this guy.

Is that not just the most worthless tool ever? I was annoyed just watching this part of the process.

 

 

It didn’t take long for that to get old. But, no worries, my man has power tools!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Remember how I mentioned earlier that Fluff isn’t exactly organized in the garage? I bet you can see what’s coming next.

The drill battery was, of course, not fully charged. So, just as it seemed the process was getting somewhere, it went dead. But, have no fear, Fluff has another battery, which he assured me was on the charger.

Not so much. It was dead too.

Back to the little L guy.

But Fluff was working it like a pro.

 

 

 

I too had an important job in the construction process.

Of course, this isn’t all I did. I also was in charge of holding screws and, one time, even was promoted to hammer holder. Yep, I’m big time!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Once the chair was assembled, it was time to take it to the Zen Patio.

Wait! Why didn’t we put this together on the patio?

I assume that would have required advance planning, which is not really my spouse’s forte.

Does anyone else think it’s funny that the chair looks bigger than Fluff? That must be the camera angle, right?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The end product is fabulous. I love it! And, it really didn’t take that long at all.

I’m going to enjoy a ton of reading and writing in the beautiful Oklahoma sun from my lovely chair.

I told Jeff it was ok to wait until the drill was charged to assemble the second one. After all, I only have one rear, right?

He’s gone golfing now.

Any bets on how long it will take to get the second chair built? Perhaps next Mother’s Day?

Lord, I love that man!

A Little Peculiar Reading

I guess sometimes writers just get tired.

This was my impression after reading Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children by Ransom Riggs.

I, admittedly, wasn’t excited about reading the book initially. I was excited by an invitation to join a book club and embrace my true nerd by discussing books with others. But, when you’re in a book club, they want you to read the book. Enter Miss Peregrine.


A cross between Harry Potter (which I did not enjoy) and Nanny McPhee (which I loved), the book follows Jacob as he travels to an island near Wales trying to better understand the last utterances of his dying grandfather. On the island, Jacob discovers the Miss Peregrine’s Home and begins to realize that the strange photos his grandfather showed him as a child might not have been manipulated.

I was taken with the book when I first started reading. I should have suspected something was amiss when my favorite sentences were the first in the prologue.

“I had just come to accept that my life would be ordinary when extraordinary things began to happen. The first of these came as a terrible shock and, like anything that changes you forever, split my life into halves: Before and After.”

The lines certainly get your attention and are easily recognizable as something we’ve all experienced—the before and after of a major life event.

The book continued building from there and was an enjoyable read until the end. In the last few chapters, the story line became overly elaborate and confusing. Then, the book just ended. It was almost as if the writer just got tired of writing.

Overall, I don’t regret having read the book. Book clubs are fun, you know? It’s worth a read if you are looking for something peculiar, or if you just like this young fantasy type of read. Don’t waste your time on it if you have a list of other things you’re interested in reading.

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My Dog is Fat

Dog

My fat dog, Boomer, begging my Dad for bacon. She knows that Papa won't give her "broccoli food."

My husband takes every opportunity to make fun of my poor little dog because she’s fat and can’t control her food.

He even has her on weight management food, which we fondly call her “broccoli food.”

Here’s a recent conversation in our house:

Me: “I’m getting me one of those teacup Beagles.”

Fluff: “You had one and you turned her into Boomer.”

It’s not her fault. She just has big bones.

He needs to stop being mean to my licky, licky dog.