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I Said a “HOT” Date

February 4, 2011

Yesterday I scheduled a hot date with The Hubster’s miter saw.

Well, Mr. Saw, a HOT date with you does not include a high of 35 and continuous drizzle.

But I’m nothing if not determined. (The Hubster calls it stubborn and pig-headed…he’s a smooth talker.)

So I proceeded with my building plans and trudged out to my workshop…

Yes, that is a folding table.

Yes, it’s the one of the folding tables I use when I host one of our huge family get-togethers.

And no, no one in the family knows they’re eating off a table that last served up saw dust and wood chips.

And no, those white flecks in the picture are not the result of my less-than-superior photography skills. Those are the sleet particles that the day’s earlier drizzle turned into shortly after dark. So much for my hot date, right?

I didn’t show you this photo to embarrass myself. (Truly, there’s a lot of stuff about my life that’s a lot more embarrassing than this.)

I showed you this photo as a way of explaining why my darn project didn’t get finished today. Despite my determination, Mother Nature has a way of quickly revealing my limitations.

For instance, I find it impossible to hold a screw when my fingers have gone numb and tingly and are mere seconds from falling off my hands. And despite my adoration of coffee, if I drink two twelve-cup pots in a desperate but futile attempt to keep warm I’ll get the tremors, which thereby increase the likelihood that my fingers will indeed fall right off my hands at any moment.

Days like today tend to reveal the very worst of my personality. My crankiness, my bitchiness, my tendency to whine and complain and moan.

But something amazing happened while I was outside freezing today beneath the lean-to attached to our 80 year-old “rustic” barn (other more sensible truthful people would call it a ramshackle.)

Instead of whining and bitching and complaining and moaning about all that I lack and dreaming of all that I don’t possess, I realized how incredibly fortunate I really am.

I had two legs that allowed me to stand out in the lean-to that funneled every bone-sawing wind through me. I had two hands to lift and turn and mark and cut no matter how blue they might have been. I had an awesome Hubster who brought me my fiftieth cup of coffee and who offered to help me at least a hundred times and who didn’t take offense when I told him that I really really really wanted to do this by myself.

And I discovered something in me that was better than the usual me. Call it gratitude, call it a God-breeze, call it whatever you like. I stood in the cold with my frozen fingers and nose, and I celebrated.

And then I had to go pee.

Again.

So…no…my project’s not finished. And tomorrow and Sunday’s calendars are booked solid, so I won’t get back to it before Monday.

Until then…

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