Crooked Is the New Perfect: Part One
There went that heavy, feral sigh of his.
a male lion. Large and sated most of the time. Patient and dismissive
to most things, but there's a power banked under there somewhere.
I've never actually heard the man roar. Though stories from his friends indicate that I never want to.
The man is sexy. Even when he's irritated.
Though I can't mention it to him now, or we'll never get anything done.
look up from my rows of two-by-fours that are half brushed with wood
stain, to the pergola frame that he's been working on all weekend.
"What's wrong, baby," I ask.
"It's crooked. This thing won't line up worth a damn. Not in any direction."
I chuckle. This should come as no surprise to either of us. The man that owned our home prior must have been The Crooked Man.
I'm sure most people have heard the rhyme:
There was a Crooked Man, and he walked a crooked mile.
He found a crooked sixpence against a crooked stile...and so on.
think our crooked man must have bought a lifetime supply of beer with
his sixpence and decided that in his boozy stupor, he should build a
But I don't look at it as a disaster. It's just another challenge.
There is no greater joy for me, than to see the potential of my surroundings...and then turn those dreams into a reality.
Just like in my writing career.
bestest boy and I seem to learn a new trade every summer. We have more
high-impact projects running than we really have time for.
But somehow we always find the time.
Because this is our passion.
Well--next to writing, of course.
And reaping the benefits of telling the man how sexy he is.
His easy stride crosses the yard to where I am.
He sits next to me. Expels another sigh.
I try not to smile.
"What do you recommend?" I ask.
have two choices. Build it to fit, or build it square." He took a deep
breath. His tourmaline-blue eyes narrowed in the afternoon sun as he
looked to the raised patio. "If we build it square, it'll show. And the
usable space on the patio will become much smaller."
"Well, build it
to fit then, I guess." We've dealt with enough odd curves and wayward
thinking in this home, that the conclusion, for me, is easier to come
If we roll with the imperfections, we end up with more character, just like in writing.
"Yeah." He finally agreed.
sat silent for a while, just watching me work. I know it takes him a
while to work through things and to accept a difficult decision.
Sometimes I feel that way too.
But just like in writing, once you
accept an abrupt change in direction and work with what you have, the
adventure continues in ways you don't expect.
"It'll be perfect," I assure him.
(to be continued)