By Lynna Clark

Do you find it hard to buy for the men in your life? You’d think living with someone for nearly forty seven years would give me a clue. Nope… still clueless. Currently we are trying to improve our little love shack. Not a full blown remodel; just a few things to make our nest more efficient. Since David enjoys cooking I ordered a large slab of butcher block to enlarge his workspace beside the stove. The box was delivered to the front steps where only strangers venture. I mean really. Look at the entrance. There are enough spider webs covering that space to suggest it’s still Halloween. Maybe that’s why the delivery guy dumped the box on the ground beside the steps. He must’ve took one look and decided not to risk it.

Even though it was very heavy I figured I could slide the box around the house to the real door. Well, I tried. About three inches and several painful warning signs later it hit me. Apparently I am not a spring chicken any more. I have to say I was not quite ready for that shocking revelation. Sometimes life is just not very polite. About three hours later I got a Christmas miracle. One of our daughters and a grown granddaughter happened by and were able to get the box into the house. Those girls are freakishly strong for a couple of skinny chicks. I did a happy dance… actually a happy waddle and took joy in the gift that I knew my sweetheart would love.

Christmas morning came. I clapped like a little girl rejoicing that for once his present did not contain socks or underwear. He pulled his pocket knife out and carefully opened the gift. The look on his face said, “You bought me countertops?” So I explained how the piece would have to be cut to fit over the dishwasher beside the stove then fastened to the wall so he could “Mise-en-Place” [arrange all his ingredients] and chop to his heart’s content. Again the look. This time it said, “How wonderful… a project.”

I know this man. He’s not unkind. He just wasn’t sure what to do with his face. Then we pulled the rest of the box off his gift to discover even more wonderfulness. The thing was busted. BUT it was actually broken at exactly where we would have cut it. Though the edge is a bit jagged, we decided to use it rather than go to the trouble of sending it back. David stained it, sealed it, put it in place and invited me to see how it turned out. I tipped my head at the broken piece against the wall standing up as a backsplash.

“It’s like a live edge,” he explained. I looked at him wondering what to do with my face. He gave me a smile and I realized. He DOES like it! So we shall enjoy it just the way it is. Together throughout our many similar adventures we have learned that things do not have to be perfect to be good and useful. That wisdom along with so much contentment only comes with age. Perhaps it’s a good thing I’m not a spring chicken any more. To that I say, “Waddle on!”