The Woman Has Tools

Many years ago, as we started out on the bike tour across United States, I gleefully announced, "the woman has maps." I suppose that meant that I was powerful and could navigate myself around the United States. And maybe a little adventurous.... who knew where I might want to take myself next?

 Well, today I have a new announcement to make.  The woman has tools.

This is nothing new. We've had a basement full of nice tools ever since we moved to our Beaverdale Brick in Des Moines and found out that we weren't as handy as we thought we were.  But we did try. As least, Cal did.

The basement is not a pleasant place. It is 80 years old, and water oozes through its pores, poor dear. I have never had any hope for it to be other than it was, but I knew it could be BETTER. A little better.

 You CAN stand up in it although because of its mazes of the pipes and vents and 80 years of wiring. it will never have a ceiling. There IS good storage down there, with a little help from a dehumidifier. Cal bikes in the winter time down there. The washer and dryer are down there.  And all those lovely, lovely tools.

So I decided to take the basement under my wing and turn it into something a little bit more user-friendly, and that means that I have to learn to use the tools - pretty much. Cal has no interest in my little project so I am on my own. Yesterday I mastered the table saw. When I say "mastered"' I merely mean that I was able to use it with the desired outcome and not kill myself. So far I have "mastered" the miter saw, scroll saw, electric drill, the sander, and I am up to a nail gun. I also am becoming well-versed in the properties of different kinds of paint.

The learning curve is huge. HUG. That means that I spend days and days in the basement, only coming up for fresh air when my lungs have their full capacity of old saw dust, mold, and and other chemicals that will shorten my life.

But you know,

I have a growing affection for the old basement, and for all my tools. Yes, they are MY tools now. I am starting to develop my own private stock pile of wood.  And screws, all kinds of screws, a myriad of rainy day screws that I laughed at my father for keeping when we cleaned his basement. (I promise you I will throw them out before I die.)

 And so the woman has tools. I guess that means that I am more powerful, more self-sufficient and and maybe even a little… dangerous.