Building Furniture and Getting Pissed Off.

Thanks to Gillian at Black Door Press via CC at Honesty ~ My Whole Self…. I’ve been inspired to talk about one of my memorable childhood moments.

I could easily talk about our annual family vacations to Myrtle Beach, during which I met and totally fell for a young girl, from Yonkers, NY.

I know it’s hard to believe, but there’s a memory that stands out more than young love, though, and I’m not sure why…. but I’m gonna run with it anyway.

I think I was like eight years old or so when my Dad discovered “This End Up” furniture. It was a sort of rough and rugged country-type furniture that my parents really liked. But that stuff was pretty expensive, and my Dad was quite thrifty, so he decided he would build furniture for our new house himself.

He went to the This End Up store and photographed all their furniture, took some measurements and began designing custom pieces of furniture to fit our house. He designed a hutch and a sort of TV stand to go in our living room… in addition to a couch and love seat (I think he bought this piece); a really nice computer desk (which I’m writing from now) and my bedroom set, which included my dresser and, of course, my bed.

I was always Dad’s helper with all of his projects. I was the tool-go-getter, the beer fetcher and the screw holder when necessary.

I remember when Dad was working on a drawer for my dresser, which is now Brooke & Delana’s combined dresser. Something didn’t fit quite right and Dad just lost it. He was hammering… then, all of the sudden, he was beating the crap out of the drawer with his hammer; cussing out loud at the drawer…. It scared the shit out of me and I ran in the house to find Mom. Mom made me feel better, but…

I think, at that very moment when Dad lost his temper, my young brain wrote a program that stays with me to this day. I never sweat the small stuff, and I’ll definitely never lose my temper over that small stuff. Get pissed off at wood… C’mon man!

I believe there was also an adverse effect on me because of that experience. When I sense something that “scares” me… I cut and run… I sense a threat and will do everything possible to shut that threat out. That shit happens more than I care to admit. It’s unhealthy, I’m sure, and is certainly why I can’t stay in a relationship (post divorce) for any notable length of time.

 A minor side note…. I have built furniture (my fish tank stand… currently supporting 400 pounds) that weighs half as much as Dad’s stuff and is twice as strong! Sorry…. I’m smarter and more innovative than you, Dad!

Oh well… It is what it is…. Enjoy this unrelated, silly, KISS Video that’s been stuck in my head the past couple days!

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