Home Improvement ...

I’ve written before about how much I enjoy the process of making a house (my trailer-half in this case) a ‘home,’ so to speak. Its one of the many gifts my father gave me in his lifetime. Projects around the house are rarely a chore, especially when it involves me creating something from scratch. Shortly after I was married, my wife decided she wanted shelves in the closet of the home-office in our condo on Whidbey Island. I remember her measuring the opening and planning to go out and buy some pre-fab shelves from Target or Fred Meyer. I looked at her and said, “Don’t bother, I’ll make some.” This statement was greeted with a look of worry (and some disbelief). You have to understand, we had been married for all of four months, and she’d never seen my creative side around the house. She watched me intently as I took my own measurements, drew out a plan (another gift from my Dad, he was an amateur draftsman as a young man, and believed in making somewhat precise drawings of the projects we did together), and installed the shelves. Needless to say, she was impressed. This led to quite a few projects for me over the years, some more complicated than others; but each with its own identity. She knows that at the outset of a project, she’s going to lose me in the garage for the duration (she also loses her parking spot, as the garage is my workspace).

This leads to today. Earlier this month, I sent home a request for some supplies not available here, specifically wood-grain contact paper. My mother bought and sent the contact paper (not before wondering what in the heck I was going to do with it) along with some cool Notre Dame stuff to brighten up the room (that's from my sister - and yes, I do hit the sign on the way out the door every day). I received it in my birthday package earlier this week.

I had been bothered for some time by my bed and makeshift coffee table. My bed had a wood support in the middle that looked out of place. When I removed it to see if it was needed, I found out why it was there. Apparently, my bed has ZERO support in the middle, and would leave me sleeping on the floor at some sort of weird angle. My immediate idea was to cover the support with the wood paper (to make it look like it belonged there). After realizing how easy that job would be, I looked at the table. A few weeks ago, my wife’s cousin gave me a bit of a hard time about the flowers on the table. I tried to explain to her that supplies were limited, and that this was a bed sheet that was in the room when I arrived. The more I thought about it, the more I realized she was probably right – it was a bit effeminate to have the flowery sheet on my table. Well, I have contact paper … why can’t I give that thing a manly touch? (after all this talk about decorating, it’s the ONLY manly touch this post has) So I spent this evening making my table more acceptable for a guy’s room. It still has the flowers, but not as bad as before. That and the TV is showing NASCAR right now … that’s manly right? What the heck, I’ll resign myself to be a desert-decorator, and be proud of my ‘chick’ side. Don’t worry Karen, the table is staying behind when I come home … I’m not as dumb as that.

Before I check out for tonight, I wanted to direct you to a post on one of my friend’s blogs. Many of you have asked throughout the years, “What would make a guy get so excited about going to sea for months at a time?” Well, my pal Barbie (the F/A-18 pilot) expressed the thoughts of many a sailor quite eloquently in his post. Its not the ports, or the ship, or the people … it’s all of that and a lot more. I personally find his thoughts on the mornings to be right on the mark:

The most peaceful times were before flight ops began daily. With the midmorning sun hitting your face and the smell of sea spray...it was almost therapeutic after the previous night's landing that scared you so bad...your legs shook for an hour after the fact. Looking over the deck's edge at the rush of blue ocean passing brought many a Sailor serenity from the realization that he was miles away from a family that he missed and loved.

Well, there’s no sea spray here (and most of the smells come from the porto-potties), but that doesn’t keep me from loving my family. You just find other things to put you in that frame of mind where you’re at peace with your world … maybe that’s why I continue ‘projects for Karen’ even though she is thousands of miles away … it reminds me of why I’m here and why I can’t wait to get home. Until tomorrow.

-Grease out.