Miss Fix-It Strikes Again!

Hello everyone!  This blog post/newsletter contains two parts.  First you get a funny story and then you get a link to some free and bargain books.  Shall we proceed?  Excellent!

Since this is Mother’s Day weekend, I’ll share a story involving my mom.  This happened a few weeks ago, so it’s still fresh in my mind.  Let me preface this story by explaining that my mom treats me like I’m a fragile delicate flower that might die at any moment if I try anything dangerous/scary/slightly risky.  In other words, she’s smothered me my entire life.  I’m used to it by now, so it’s not a big deal.  Would you like an example?  Of course you would.

Let’s take a trip back in time to Junior High School.  I was probably in eighth grade and we were doing a unit on building birdhouses in shop class.  The teacher was a big, burly dude who didn’t put up with any bullshit.  One day he informed us that our next project involved using the table saw.

Hmm.  The table saw is dangerous, scary, and also slightly risky.

As we sat around the dinner table that night, the conversation turned to me and I got asked about my day at school.  Naturally I said, “We’re using a table saw tomorrow to cut wood for our birdhouses.”

This did not go over very well.

“What did you just say?” my mom questioned, a look of horror forming on her face.

“I’m cutting wood, mom.  I’m a lumberjack.”

“The hell you are!  Do you want to cut off a finger and bleed to death?  There’s no way on Earth that my only child is using power tools unsupervised.”

“I’m pretty sure that the teacher is going to be watching us…”

“What if he gets distracted?  There are countless other children in class that might require his attention.  He’ll look away to reprimand an unruly kid and you’ll get your finger cut off.”

“So…you want me to flunk the project?  I thought good grades were important.”

“Don’t worry.  You’re not touching the table saw.  I’ll write you a note.”

So she did.  I had the pleasure of walking up to my very intimidating shop teacher, mumbling something incoherent about a crazy parent, and thrusting the note in his face.

“What’s this?” he asked, not even bothering to read it.

“I have a note.”

“Are you sick?  Go to the nurse’s office.  They’ll take your doctor’s note.”

“Yeah…um…it’s not a doctor’s note.  See…I’m not allowed to use the table saw.”

“Says who?”

“My mom.”

Let me also explain that all the teachers at my grade school were already very familiar with my mother, however this was Junior High School and they hadn’t yet fully experienced her in all her glory.

“Is your mommy going to be writing notes for you for the rest of your life?” he asked, eyebrows raised in a challenge.

“Most likely.  If you think you can stop her, please feel free.  It’s not worth the hassle,” I explained with a shrug of my shoulders.

I have no idea what was written in the note, because it was in a sealed envelope and I didn’t have the balls to open it.  All I know, is that the next day when everyone got their piece of wood and went over to listen to instructions, I was totally mortified.

“Okay.  I want you all to pay attention as I demonstrate how to use the table saw to safely cut your piece of wood.  There is to be no screwing around because power tools can cut off a finger and I want you all to be safe.  In my past twenty years as a teacher there have been no accidents, but evidently that means nothing to some people.”  He paused for dramatic effect and stared right at me.  “Since one person has a note from her mother that she’s not allowed to use power tools, I will be cutting her piece for her.”

He sliced up the wood in about thirty seconds and handed it to me.  I’m pretty sure I died of embarrassment as all eyes turned in my direction.

Moral of the story?  Shop teachers pretty much all hated me, I’ve never learned to use power tools, and I’m basically afraid of life in general.

Moving right along to the present day.

I was at my mom’s house a few weeks ago and she was having a problem with one of her gutters.  You know…the aluminum gutter downspout thing that hangs from your house:

gutter

I guess a piece of her gutter blew off during a bad storm and she didn’t want to ask her boyfriend to fix it for her.  Who did that leave as her handyman?

Yep.  Yours truly.

So I said, “Mom…quit complaining about the gutter and let’s fix it.”

“Maybe you could ask your husband to fix it when he has free time,” she suggested.

“Or maybe I can go to the hardware store and figure it out myself.”

“No, you can’t.  You don’t know what size it is or what piece I need.”

“Yeah, okay.  You’re right.  I’m a moron.”

I’m always up for a challenge and I like proving people wrong.  So I hopped in the car and drove to our local big box hardware store that carries every tool known to man.  My husband practically lives there, so I’m somewhat familiar with the place.  I don’t know why all dudes like home improvement stores so much.

Anyway, I went to the store and asked a sales associate to help me locate the gutter department.  I’m not a man…I know how to ask for directions to save time.  The employee helpfully replied, and I purposefully strode toward my destination, head held high.  Oh yeah.  Getting shit done, baby!

I immediately found a wonderful gutter piece that screwed onto the gutter and flipped up when you were cutting the grass.  Thus, it wouldn’t blow away like the last gutter.  Winner, winner, chicken dinner.  I’m on fire!

But it screwed on with a small Phillips screw.  Did my mom have a Phillips screw driver?  Probably not.  Did we have one at home?  Probably, because we have a garage full of tons of shit.  Was there a snowball’s chance in hell I could actually find this exact screwdriver in our piles of crap?  Nope.

Not to be intimidated by this new obstacle thrust cruelly in my path, I took it upon myself to walk over to the screwdriver section and test them all until I found one that worked.

Look at me go!

I walked to the checkout, made my purchase, and went back to my mom’s house, full of pride.  It really doesn’t take much to impress me.  I mean, I was totally smothered my whole entire life, so accomplishing little things like opening a pickle jar really gets me in a good mood.

Upon arrival at her house, my mom came running out and told me to be careful about twelve times.  She then said, “Why don’t you wait for your husband to do it?” followed by, “That’s a tiny screw…don’t lose it…you’re going to lose it in the grass and never find it again!”

After five minutes of work, I expertly installed the new gutter piece.  Taking a few steps back to admire my handiwork, my mom admitted, “I am so proud of you!  I can’t believe you did that ALL BY YOURSELF!”

Like I just performed a successful brain surgery or single-handedly foiled an armed robbery attempt.

No, mom, I installed your new gutter.  Don’t call the newspaper to issue a press release in my honor.

I did, however, wish that my shop teacher could have seen me and realize I didn’t turn out to be a total fuck up.

THE END!

Now here’s the second part of the blog post/newsletter.  There is a huge Mother’s Day book promotion going on and I just so happen to be part of it.  What do you get?  Thanks for asking!

There are lots of books from an array of different authors to choose from. Most books are free or priced between $0.99-$2.99 for the duration of the promotion running from May 12-14. As always, please check prices before you do the one-click.

http://irisblobel.com/bookfair052018/

Banner Mothers Day Book Fair

Thanks for taking the time to read my blog/newsletter and have a great Mother’s Day weekend to everyone, whether you’re the mother to a human child or a fur baby or you’ve ever done anything nice for anyone!

Til next time…

Grace

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