A friend and I were talking via email this morning about men. No, not maliciously. In fact we were appreciating the fact that men are "doers" in the sense that they like fixing, putting together, taking apart, inventing, etc. I'm highly appreciative of men. What sparked the topic was watching my 13-yr-old grandson this past weekend do the "man" thing of using an electric drill/screwdriver to take apart an old computer desk and help construct the new one. He was fully intent upon his task and wanted absolutely no help. "Help" is translated "Interference" by a man intent upon doing his job. So I backed off and went off to run the vacuum instead. No man would touch a vacuum unless under extreme duress. I'm hoping this grandson continues to learn and do.
My own man is a doer...he pays close attention to the lawn, the cars, the watering of the garden. And, yes, he also pays close attention to the garbage. We've been married a long time and in all those years I'll bet he's forgotten garbage night only once or twice. He also knows how to cook a pretty decent meal but he pretends ignorance in the kitchen. Sneaky guy, that man. (I say that very kindly...after all, he did save me a slice of that peach pie!)
Today's photo shows four young men who are currently atop our house. They are removing three layers of old shingles in prep for new ones. Fortunately for them the day is lovely, neither too hot nor too cold.
Our old shingles were getting a few curled up edges...well, a LOT of curled up edges. By the end of the week these four will have a new roof in place.
I'm glad it's them doing the job and not me. However, I do know how to apply shingles...I helped do that once on an old steep-roofed house...in a past life. I did that in spite of the fact that I was three months pregnant. Oh, Foolish Woman! Climbing up the ladder to access the roof wasn't too bad, but it took a bit of nerve to step OFF the roof and onto the ladder to go down. Somehow that freaked me a bit and I moved slowly and carefully every time.
Then, to continue in my Foolish Woman phase, we went canoeing. In Canada. Canoeing out wasn't so bad. Canoeing back we were met with high winds and heavy waves. My poor baby survived both roof and canoe! For which I am extremely grateful. I bet she didn't know she was atop a roof and paddling across a wind-tossed lake before she was born. She does now. Or at least as soon as she reads this.