Jesus Had A Hammer, Mary Had A Saw

(I like to think Mary was a tool junkie* like me)

Of all the bible lore that has been discussed in my presence, the most interesting things aren't the mystical "miracles" that God and Jesus performed. I have always been much more riveted by the mundane things; things the bible never answers for me such as: did Jesus use a stick to brush his teeth? Did Jesus have lice? Did Jesus hate the desert? And obviously I'm intrigued by the fact that he was supposedly a carpenter. Doesn't it interest anyone besides me that he wasn't a lawyer, or a money changer, or a homeless leper?

Carpentry is one of those skills that man has depended on for as long as man discovered he didn't want to wander the earth all year long, every year, running from mastodons and saber-toothed tigers. There are only a few things humans really require for survival (besides avoiding being eaten by anything higher on the food chain...but we sure did take care of that problem by killing off everything that was higher on the food chain...yay us?): food (whether hunted, foraged, or cultivated, we require food), shelter (either under big rock over-hangs or shelter we build ourselves), a safe place to grow sperm and eggs into more people.

Clearly, humans have mastered the whole reproductive gig. But how many of us could provide ourselves with food and shelter if we had no one else to hand it to us on a golden platter?

Jesus was a carpenter and I wonder if there is any particular significance to that fact? It is one of the most basic and important skills humans can have. I like to think that Mary might have picked up a saw and cut herself some timber if need be. I've had my own hammer since I was nineteen years old. I relished choosing one for myself and telling the scoffing men in the hardware store to get lost while I got up close and personal with all of the hammers they had and pretended to bash them in the head to test out the feel of the handles and the weight. I chose a very nice hammer that has never once let me down.

Having a hammer has not, in itself, made me a handy person. In fact, I wouldn't describe myself as handy at all. I do aspire to it though. The dog is Houdini reincarnated and has many escape tricks up her tail. One of them is to quietly smash the fence to bits while we're not looking, as you can see above, her work is swift. In the past I would have grabbed my hammer and looked for some stray nails with which to fix this problem.

But that was before I got comfortable and capable with Philip's power drill. Women love to roll their eyes and comment about "men and their power tools" but I think most women, once they get a feel for them will understand the magnificent possibilities inherent in the ownership of such a tool. Women love power almost as much as men do and I admit that while it took me YEARS to even consider trying to use this tool, I am now at a point where I'm wondering if I don't need my own. (The answer to that is no. Because one power drill per household is enough. Sharing is good.)

This is my modest circular saw. I'm not a pro at using one but I'm proficient. What I have yet to master is to change the blade position to match the job I'm doing. I built a chicken coop from scratch a few years ago using this saw and the power drill. I also used levels, squaring tools, post hole diggers, and a staple gun. I wish my pictures of it aren't lost in the ether. I would show you what a woman can do when left alone with some wood, imagination, tools, and a need. It wasn't the prettiest thing you ever saw, but it was draft proof and provided a solid safe nest for my hens.

Our friend Jim came over yesterday to cut a pre-built fence panel in half for a bigger part of the dog containment project and he is a professional carpenter. He has things like chalk line and fancier skill saws and routers and things that are a huge mystery to me. I watched him cut that panel in two and wondered what it would feel like to have that kind of skill at my fingertips? Then I realized that I do. I do have some of the most important skills humans can have: foraging, growing, cooking, and preserving food is extremely important to humans in the same way as building shelter is.

Chick didn't bust this hole in the fence but once access to her other escape routes are closed off I know she'll find a way to wedge herself through here.

I might not be able to build more than a rudimentary shelter but I'm ridiculously proud that I can fix a hole in a fence like this.

The above picture required only that I screw the existing board back into place.

But for these two missing fence panels I had to cut a larger 1x6 board in half and then screw it into place. So easy to do. Yet a few years ago I would have looked at you like you were floating past me on the Nile holding up a sandwich board that says "Headed For Hell" if you had suggested I fix it myself.

Next up is some raised bed building. I am going to make them all by myself. The raised beds we made at the last house were made with the help of Philip and our very dear friends Sid and Dennis. This time it will just be me, the skill saw, the power drill, and a bunch of wood.

As a side note, I will have to take a picture of our pencil sharpener in the basement. Oh yes, oh my...it's the kind that schools have. The crank kind made of metal that are the only way to sharpen a pencil. If the porch facing the back yard didn't instantly make me want this house, the pencil sharpener in the basement did! I used it yesterday and it worked well and gave me the kind of small bright pleasure that a good life is filled with.

*I really wanted to say "tool whore" but then I thought that "whore" is still a pretty hard word to use without it coming off as deeply offensive. So then I thought "junkie" would be more appropriate. But if one is to really consider it seriously, is it less shocking to refer to oneself playfully as a drug addict or as a prostitute? Of course, either of them is better than saying "gosh I sure do love tools" which is really what I'm trying to say but is so milky and bland when it's stripped of all it's colloquial edge. I use language to weed out the hyper sensitive and gentle people because they make me itchy. I'm allergic to milky character. Wow, for a footnote this is impressively rambling and philosophical. I like it here in the footnote though. It's decorated exactly like a corner of my brain. I could stay here in this foot note all day talking to myself. Well, now I'm cracking myself up because I'm totally just talking to myself at this point and it always cracks me up how easily I can amuse myself when it's just me and a typewriter. If you happen to be reading this still then that's just incidental and you are now eavesdropping on my brain.

Shame on you!