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During her recent visit my daughter who is stationed with her Marine husband in North Carolina decided that my mother in law needed a new faucet in her kitchen. She and I were out bonding as only a father and daughter can when she said “The faucet in Grandma’s kitchen is leaking”. I responded with the warm caring that I’m known for. “So what?” says I. “Daddy, Grandma needs a new faucet in her kitchen, and we should get her one and put it in”. How could I refuse my Sweetpea?
So, off we went to that testament to testosterone, the Home Depot. We cruised an isle about two city blocks long that displayed so many different types of faucets that my head was spinning.
” How about this one with the built in tea maker?’ I asked. “Or this one called “Mothers Little Helper?” ” What about it?” she asked. “It dispenses vodka on one side and tomato juice on the other for those people who just can’t seem to get away from that sink full of dishes”, I said. “No Daddy, just a regular faucet will be all we need.”
So, after some hours of searching through the myriad of metal, she finally picked out a rather plain looking brushed silver apparatus with one of those hose thingys on the side which cost after taxes about 90 dollars. “For 90 bucks it should come with a little elf to do the dishes too.” I said. My daughter just smiled and said that once I saw Grandma’s face after we put it in I would feel proud that we did such a nice thing.
Over the river and through the woods to Grandmother’s house we went, bearing our shiny silver gift. I immediately prepared myself for the task at hand. ” Uh Daddy, what is all that stuff you have on?”. I had tapped into my soldier mentality and outfitted myself for the coming battle with this inanimate object facing me. “Just the things I need; tool belt, face mask, rubber boots, rubber gloves, and so on”. “But swim fins and a life vest, Daddy?”. “You never know, Sweetpea”. “Never hurts to be prepared”. Phase one of the operation had begun.
I emptied the area below the sink of all the cleaning supplies and other miscellaneous items and squeezed myself into the space between the pipes. I assessed the situation, withdrew, and headed for the door. “Where are you going?” asked my daughter. “To buy more tools”, I said.
Back to that Mecca of Manhood, Home Depot. I returned about an hour and four hundred dollars later with a whole slew of nifty new tools, only to find that my son, George, had taken the old faucet out and and almost completed installing the new one. “How did you do that?” I asked in open mouthed disbelief.
” I just took the clamps off the sink, raised it up and took the faucet off with these rusty old pliers” he replied. I pulled him aside and said ” Boy, didn’t I teach you anything?”. He immediately knew his mistake. “Oh, I’m sorry Dad. This was an opportunity to buy some new tools, huh?”. “That’s right Son. Never miss a chance to buy shiny new tools, even if you don’t know what they’re for. Don’t tell Mom and maybe I can keep them”.
All was not lost, however. It seems that the copper pipes running from the faucet to the water supply pipes were too short. This meant that I would have to go and get some flexible hoses and brass fittings, as well as some more tools, to make them connect together. Back to that Round Table of real men, Home Depot.
I arrived about fifteen minutes before closing and left a half hour later with the hoses and two hundred dollars worth of new tools but not the fittings. The “plumbing expert” working in that section assured me that I would not need the brass fittings. ” Trust me” the idiot in the orange vest said. ” All you’ll need is the hoses and the tools you bought”.
Back at my mother in law’s, I squeezed myself back under the sink and as I suspected, discovered that I would indeed need the brass fittings to make the required connections. Of course, Home Depot was now closed.
I arrived once again at that Haven of Hardware, Home Depot, as they opened the following morning. I spent the next hour looking for the correct fittings and departed with them and a fifty dollar tool that was on sale. (It was some sort of wrench for adjusting the fuel filter on a tractor, not that I have one , but you can’t be too prepared.) Back to Grandma’s.
I once again squeezed myself under the sink. I connected the hoses, tightened the fittings using a crescent wrench and the same rusty pliers my son had used earlier, then went out to turn the water back on. I used a highly specialized tool I called a “T” tool, but is known to professionals as a curb key. I came back in, found several leaks, then went back out and turned the water off. I repeated the process several times.
In the meantime, my sister in law, Margaret, had arrived from work. She cracked open a beer and offered to help me with my task. ( It was eight o’clock in the morning, but she, like I, works nights, and it was five o’clock pm in Yugoslavia, or somewhere, so I joined her.) She took over working the curb key. Turn the water on, come in and check with me, take a swig of beer, go back out and turn the water back off, repeat the process. This is how things went for the next hour or so. I couldn’t get one small leak to seal up so I called George and asked him to come and help and began mopping up under the sink.
He arrived shortly thereafter and said “Why is Aunt Margaret out there lying on the curb with her face in the water valve compartment?” I explained the situation, then went out to get Margaret while George sealed up the leaky fitting using some stuff he uses on his job as an air conditioning/heating tech. I propped Margaret up and we cracked another beer and we began to sing those golden oldies from out past.Our favorite was ” I see England, I see France, I see George’s underpants”, at which point we would laugh like a couple of nut bags.
George completed sealing the leak and at last the task was done. It only took forty nine hours, seven hundred dollars, and a six pack of Amber Bock. I could only think of how much money and time we had saved compared to calling in a plumber to do the job. Later, my daughter said, ” It’s too bad I have to leave tomorrow, Grandma’s roof could sure use some work”.
I took my daughter to the airport the next morning. I dropped the large duffel bag on the check in scale at the ticket counter and it began to wiggle and make muffled noises. One of the security officers looked at it suspiciously. ” Do you have an animal in there?” he asked. I smiled pleasantly and answered in the negative. ” Well, is it fruit or explosives?” he queried. I again smiled and began to explain the events of the past few days. As I watched the bag going down the conveyor to the cargo area I called out ” Safe trip, Sweetpea. And don’t worry, I checked you all the way through”.

If nothing else, Kirby Larson's Hot Women of Children's Literature (she's up to #3 right now) inspires me to keep current with my own postings.

Remember when I had that recent poll to determine who exactly the next Hot Man of Children's Literature should be? Good times. Scott Magoon won it fair and square in spite of the rallying forces of several kidlit nominations. Just the same, I looked back at that old poll lately and what did I see? In my absence someone (or several someones) had continued to vote. The new winner is now the subject of today's entry.

Today's feller is a resident of Queens but we don't hold that against him. KIDDING! I'M KIDDING, PEOPLE! Phew.

He was born a Brooklynite, and draws the most adorable hugging monsters you ever did see. I suspect they may have weighed the vote in his favor, but it doesn't hurt that he rivals them in adorableness. His website includes everything from How to Make a Snappy Book to ... well did I mention the hugging monsters? I did, didn't I?