I fully believe that certain people shouldn’t use tools. It’s a danger to themselves and others. I do not believe that I should be categorized among these people. Others feel differently.

So why am I bringing this up now?

Over at the Outpost there was an entry about Scott and how he shorted wires when attempting to hang a clock. Not only is this man allowed to use a hammer, he’s allowed to use power tools. This bothers me. Not because he uses them, but because I can’t.

Through the comments on the thread, beginning with mine asking why he was allowed to use a hammer and I was not, it was requested that I explain why I’m not allowed to.

Picture it…Richmond…2003

My first Christmas on my own with out a man to put up the Christmas tree. This is important. There was always someone to pick out the tree and put it in the stand and hang the lights before I began decorating. I grew up believing that this was a man’s duty. While he put up the tree, I was to be going through the Christmas decorations pulling out the ornaments and placing the other knick knacks throughout the house making it festive. It’s how it was done for 26 years of my life.

However, I had made up my mind that we were going to get a Christmas tree and that *I* was going to put it in the stand. I was independant after all. I had moved across the state to a city where I knew no one. I had made these choices. It was time for me to start doing these things for myself and not calling Daddy to come and save me. I had learned how to take the car to the shop for an oil change, after all, surely I could put up a Christmas tree.

I call my dad and ask him about putting up a tree. How do I get it home? Where do I get a tree stand? Dad’s response…”Go to the tree lot, show a little leg, and they’ll take care of you.” That was Dad’s response to everything. He was convinced that all I had to do to get “my way” was flirt. I’m not really for that. I’m not a good flirter with strangers, but I was desparate. The kids and I headed to the tree lot (and really, what good does flirting do when you have two kids in tow?)

We pulled in. I’m ready to play “poor little Heather” and there stand two women. So I guess that I’m not going to be able to play the “oh help me you big burly man” game. Part of me was relieved. The other part was screaming “oh s#$&! How are the kids and I going to get this tree home?”

The women helped us select a tree. I asked them about sawing off the bottom. I knew Dad did that when he got it home, but I didn’t have a saw at home, so after looking at me like I was retarded, she sawed the bottom of the stump off for me a little and she helped me strap it to the car.

Off we went. We headed to Lowe’s. I headed straight to the tree stand section. I looked at the man and said, “I need a tree stand that an idiot can put a tree in.” He looked at me as if I were the only person that had ever looked for an idiot proof stand. He handed me one. My father NEVER paid $25 for a tree stand, but he wasn’t an idiot and could get by with the stands that were cheaper. The man told me “it’s so simple. You just stand it in there and turn the screws”.

We headed back to the house and I told the kids that they needed to clean up first thinking I could buy some time and put the tree in the stand outside (because that’s what dad always did) before I took it in the house. I had a large tree; it didn’t look that big when I was buying it and I did manage to get it in the stand and the screws screwed.

I told Matthew to come out and look at it to tell me if it was straight. He said “a little to the left mom” and I said “your left or my left?” He doesn’t know there are two lefts and we all got confused but we FINALLY got that tree in and straight.

I took it in the house. We had the perfect corner of the living room picked out and there it sat.

I put the lights on, trying very hard to remember how Dad did it. We didn’t use the big bulbs though, we used the twinkling ones; the little ones. I got the lights on and the star (it was connected to the lights) and then I let the kids decorate!

Matthew was standing on top of the coffee table so that he could reach the top of the tree and Samara — well I don’t know what she was doing…I’m sure it was unproductive… Matthew had all the breakable ornaments laid off to the side. He was going to put those up top so we didn’t knock them over.

He had two ornaments left to put on the tree and the stupid thing fell over.

The WHOLE TREE!!! Right onto Matthew and the coffee table.

We picked the tree up and started over as most of the ornaments had fallen off. The tree was relatively straight this time and Matthew again started placing the ornaments on the tree. As he placed the last ornamnet, the damned thing fell again.

By this point in time I was livid over this whole stupid tree thing. If I didn’t have two kids who thought that Santa wouldn’t come if we didn’t have a tree, it would’ve gone out on the curb and I would’ve been done with it!

I remembered Dad bolting the tree to the ceiling one year because Sam kept knocking it over. (This would be Sam, my dog as a kid, not my daughter).

Dad, upon his first visit to my house, purchased several little kits of screws, nails, and picture hangers. I found the picture hanging kit with an eye hook (I think that’s what it’s called) and some precut fishing wire. I hammered the little eye thing in the wall and then took my fishing wire around the tree but it wouldn’t reach. So I yanked the eye out of the wall and hammered it elsewhere.

This went on until I had about 6 holes in the wall and the fishing wire finally fit around the tree and in to the little eye hook. And then I looked at the tree. It was VERY crooked.

I left it like that and the kids decorated it and I said to my father, “unless I have a man to put the tree up next year, I’m getting a fake one.”

He said, “Like hell you will”

I said, “What are you doing the 2nd weekend in December?”

As it turns out, I wasn’t in Richmond, I was here in Roanoke again and Tim’s been my tree putter upper ever since…and that’s why I’m no longer allowed to use a hammer.

Until next time…

Heather