“Honey, can you give me a hand?” usually involves something like forwarding or reversing a vehicle onto ramps while GG directs. Or holding the far end of a sheet of plywood or plank while GG puts the near end through a saw or planer or jointer. Or holding some unidentifiable thing while the guy fixes, or glues or nails or pounds or measures or cuts.
“Honey can you give me a hand?” shouted from outside, makes me go running holding my breath, to usually find a pair of legs sticking out from beneath a car followed by,“Can you hand me…?”And I go and try to identify and bring whatever it is Legs forgot to take with him or managed to knock out of reach. I don’t do too badly…usually…in these little searches since I am a farm girl and somewhat familiar with the language and also given the fact that this must be The Shop from Hell. Not even The Cat wants to come in here,
preferring the n
…Phillips, Allen, round-nose, square-nose, ratchet thingies—those are cool. They spin around and make a…well…ratchety sound or are those sprockets….? Then there are screw nails, and 3/8’s”, ¼”, ¾’s something or others, bolts, nuts...
Wire. Wire is to a geek like rope is to a fisherman.
Clamps...one of these babies is growing in my oak tree...nevermind.
Drill bits, drill press...well you wouldn’t exactly go and drag a drill press under a car. You wouldn’t go drag a drill press anywhere actually.
Earlier this week I got to bash down the front end of a mini-van, leaning into it with my full weight creating an unidentifiable noise, while GG lay beneath the van. How lovely. Boing, boing, boing. He needed to see where the noise was coming from. Unlike God and mothers, GG cannot be in two places at once. “Just lay into the thing,” he instructed, then demonstrated. I can do that, I thought. I’m a big enough girl. We are somewhat secluded and this display occurred mid-day so…so what...and after a certain age... Away I boinged.