Meserizing Musings... a.k.a. Picking (splinters out of) My Behind.

The expression, “Reduce, Reuse, Recycle” is such a favorite topic, because it is good for the environment and therefore, good for us. I am constantly “repurposing” things… Straightening out nails, cutting splits out of scraps/castoff lumber and salvaging what I can. Now, with my mind focusing (read: obsessing) on netsuke and miniature carvings, I have a hard time turning loose of the splits/knots/nail holes away!
EVERYTHING gets a second or third look before my turning it loose. A wooden spoon with a broken handle sat in a container of pencil pieces, forgotten, until I broke another one. Taking the two parts in my hands I pondered what to do with them besides firewood or woodchipper food. Now, they are fridge magnets… cleverly carved into the two hands…proudly displayed on Mom’s fridge door because a “second set of hands” is always welcome in a country kitchen. Mom cried… of course she did… its her job… that and making banana pudding from scratch…

Speaking of saints in ‘rick-rack’ aprons, I had a long phone call with my Mom last night… she turned 70 in February. We spoke about hard times, good times, making do, wondering how the next bill would be paid. Honestly… we were THAT hard up. You know those care packages you all put together around Christmas and Thanksgiving? Those “care packages” of old clothes and garage sale stuff that no one wanted the church puts together? Yep… At ten years old I was the “man of the house”. I confess, here and now, to having stolen eggs and the occasional chicken… raided more than one garden in the middle of the night. I had to… I had two sisters and my Mom to think of and feed… Where is a ten year old boy supposed to find a job with good pay and benefits? No, I am not ‘poor-mouthin’... just saying. Sorry… got my traces crossed, there.

While Mom and I were rambling (much like I am, here) I mentioned Uncle Tobe, my Dad’s oldest brother… he was around ninety. (I mention him in my ‘Profile’). I miss him… miss him a lot. He made his own saddles and tack… trained his own horses for show… chewed cigars and Bull Durham… drank Crown Royal neat… quilted blankets, knitted, crocheted, embroidered… made decadent lemon pound cakes from scratch… That last bit caught you off guard, didn’t it?

I asked Mom if she remembered those little ‘critters’ he carved out of peach pits while he chewed on a cigar butt and rambled on about his horses and horse shows and breeding stock. She said that she not only remembered them; she had one! She promised she would let me have it on my next visit out. (BIG SCORE FOR THA WIGG-MIESTER!) Can’t wait to actually hold one in my hand, again. A piece of him…

I am writing about this because it gives a little more back ground (excuse) for my difficulty with finding another use or two for things… I suppose. Mainly because I am feeling a bit depressed. Lost an old friend, yesterday… Father’s day… Sunday afternoon… passed by in my hands.
He had been with me for about 7.5 years. Not a long time, maybe… but, still.
Spent hours under that shade tree with me. Always there for me when I stretched out my hand… as if he was an extention of me… my thoughts and movements. Never asked for anything but some attention every now and then. Nope, they don’t make them like him anymore… A good Dremel is a good Dremel… that is all there is to it. Maybe Lowes or Sears will have an “after Father’s day sale” and I can replace him… if not, there is the 4th of July.

I can’t believe you read this all the way to the end. Thank you for that. It is all true… every word… even the ‘death’ of my Dremel.
And… look how much you know about me, now.

Now, laugh… you rascal!
Peace and blessed be.

-- 'I sand, therefore, I am'. Richard/Wiggy.. whatever. North Texas