Hardware

Gonna get me a flashlight and a broom
Want a pair of pliers for every single room of my house
See those hacksaws? Very, very soon
One of them will be all mine!

Weird Al, "Hardware Store"

I think it may be only my roommates and my family that know this about me, but I have hardware. I'm not currently speaking of the computer kind, though I have some of that too; I mean the Tim Taylor kind. Sitting next to the closet in my bedroom, although most days it functions as a low shelf, is a toolbox, and inside are handfuls of screwdrivers, a hacksaw, a hammer, a measuring tape, razor blades (don't try this at home, kids), and various pliers and wrenches. I got the toolbox and its contents from my dad when I bought my car. "Now that you have a car, you need to have the tools to work with it," he said.

"Right, Dad," I said, already concocting ways to use a hacksaw on a Honda.

"Well, you'll need at least the star screwdrivers," said Dad. "Car companies always use those dang stars."

We both knew the real reason he got me the tools: I was the kid who wanted em. Before and after me, Dad had two sons, and both of them had a toolbox Christmas years ago when I was eight or nine. My brothers put on the safety goggles and played with the tools all that day, but a few months later it was me who crawled into their closets and pried open the dusty red boxes to steal out hammers and screwdrivers and hand drills. And on bright summer Saturdays, when Dad would open the garage door and blare '70s tunes over the sound of his planer and table saw, I sat in there too, at first just pretending to fix imaginary customers' broken appliances (with whatever hand tools Dad could spare) but eventually planning out and cutting out my own little projects from scrap wood.

I had a lot of fun with Dad in that garage workshop over the years. Dad always had two or three things he was working on, and when I couldn't help, I didn't mind just watching. (Especially since he had a small TV in the workshop. Jean-Luc Picard and Norm Abrams often joined us on these Saturdays.) He put off some of his own work to help me make a few things, like a treasure box and a shelf unit. And then he walked me through every step of taking my bike apart, cleaning it, and putting it back together. Under his tutelage I have done about everything that can be done with a piece of wood: cut, planed, sanded, primed, stained, waterproofed, painted, varnished, stripped, glued, puttied, and nailed. I helped him build a set of bunks into the walls of a tiny room in our old family cabin, and the next year we replaced a section of carpet.

My project preferences and fix-it-up philosophy have grown to be a bit different from Dad's, but the spirit of independence and self-reliance I learned in the garage will always be part of me. I can't wait to see the look on my future husband's face when he comes home to see me ripping up carpet or installing crown molding. (Peering at him through my safety goggles, cordless drill in hand, "Hi, honey!") The banshee scream of a tablesaw doesn't scare me, and neither do computers, TV/VCR/DVD/game console hookups, flat tires, gas stove pilot lights, or tax returns. (Spiders still do though.)

So my question is, do I get extra points for being a girl and knowing this stuff? Guys, would it intimidate you to have a fiancee who put a miter saw on the gift registry? Think about it. Meanwhile, if anyone's got a loose knob or a picture to be mounted, you know who to call. I've got the hardware.