Big Red

Men love power tools. I mean loooooove power tools. I’m fond of my rechargeable, cordless, electric drill, but believe me, I’m not THAT into it. A man who loves tools is a mans man, and my stepdad is one of the manliest men out there.

To give you an idea, this man has no fewer than 3 of anything. Need a drill? He has 4. Screwdriver? Flathead or Philips? Six of one, half dozen of the other. Ha ha. Need a super-sonic, laser-guided, missile launched, gas powered, atom-smashing, space modulator? He probably has one of those. His garage is like the Wardrobe from the Witch and Wardrobe. You walk in, the door closes behind you, and you find yourself in another world.

In this world you will see cans of nails, jars of screwdrivers, horns hanging on the walls, rolled up carpets, jerry cans full of who knows what, tool boxes overflowing like a pirates chest of jewels, rolls of string, spools of twine and wire, claw hammers and sledgehammers and all kinds of saws. It’s dark and it smells of dust and oil and you can’t walk in a strait line – you have to step over things and around things, like a maze. I love his garage. You can pilfer to your hearts content and he will never know anything is missing, because guess what? He has 3 more!

So on this occasion, his new baby is a wood chipper. Because every mans man needs to have something that can turn a tree into a toothpick. Damn trees. Now I admit, he is better than a lot of men, because he will actually read directions before undertaking a new project. So he reads his directions and puts his new shiny red wood chipper together. But he seems to be missing something. He thinks the oil dipstick is missing. Is it missing? Not sure. Hem and ha, look it over. Mull the problem.

Mom tires of watching him put together his toy and, figuring it will be awhile, she goes into the house. Apparently, he decides to go ahead and start it up, even though he can’t find the oil dipstick. From the house mom hears the chipper start up, and then a god awful noise and she goes running outside.

In this situation, two thoughts come up. One, where's the Chihuahua? Two, did the dipstick fall into the chipper? Once we establish that the Chihuahua is not in fact in the chipper, we can proceed. The good news is, the chipper works great!!! The bad news is, my poor stepdad had set his most beloved set of nicely broken in leather gloves on top of the chipper feeder, and when he turned it on, Schloop! Sucked right in! He was mad as a hornet, and gets madder every time mom tells the story to every member of the family, laughing hysterically as she does.

Big Red has now established who is boss, and dad will have to get some new gloves. Maybe two pairs, in case he’s a slow learner. Or maybe mom can make him one of those strings that run up your jacket sleeve and across your back to keep you from losing your mittens, like when we were kids. We told him since they were leather gloves he can mulch them into his garden, but he’s not laughing yet.

I wish one of us knew how to play Taps.