Usually, I don’t do New Year’s resolutions, but after last year — what could it hurt?
A K-9 patrol unit alerted on my truck. The dog wanted to go for a ride.
My grandma had a silly saying when things didn’t work out: ‘Ah, fart in a fruitcake.’ Tried it once — didn’t work out.
I slept with a girl on the monkey bars jus’ because she was hanging around.
As a piss poor poet laureate, I’m always one verse away from a nervous breakdown.
Perhaps my mother’s spirit of thrift found its way to me early New Years Eve morning. More on that after a little back story on her ‘thriftiness.’
My Erector set wasn’t even a week old before I ripped the plastic window on the box. Mom was there when it happened and I asked her if I could get the Scotch tape to repair it.
A day later, I did the same thing, gashing the repaired plastic with one of the metal beams, it’s thin edge and sharp corner cutting it like a hot knife through soft butter. This time when I asked to repair it, Mom said no.
“I have a better idea,” she said, “let’s replace it.”
Before I knew it, she had the scissors out and was removing the damaged plastic from the window box. Next, she retrieved a plastic paper protector sleeve, split it in two and with some Elmer’s glue affixed it into place where the old plastic used to be.
“Where’d you learn to do that?” I asked.
“As a kid,” she answered.
“You had an Erector set, too?”
“No, we were poor and had to learn how to make things last,” she answered.
Her ingenuity impressed the hell out of me. And I think some of it may have rubbed off on me as I recently found out.
The book is 81-years-old and the front flap of the dust jacket had fallen apart. In order to save it, I cut a piece of paper slightly smaller than the dust jacket, folded it over the front hardcover of the book, glued the front flap onto the inside edge of the paper and then the rest to the outside of the paper.
Yeah, there is a better way to salvage an old dust cover, but I’m not so concerned with archival technique as I am with keeping the two pieces together and with the book. Besides, I think my improvisation adds a little character to the aging tome — and all thanks to Mom.