Bits and Pieces: I’m Your Handy Man. Call me.

Baby James Taylor wrote ‘Handy Man’ in 1990. Not my favourite Taylor tune but it came to mind during a recent phone call.

“Gord, can you fix two sticky gates for me?” said a friend. “I’d do it myself but I’m up north, and busy with work.”


["Kiln-dried cedar swells when it gets wet. Gates get sticky": photos GH]

I listened to the details, knew the family and home I would have to visit, knew I had the tools required.

“I’ll call you when I’m done,” I said. “Just be prepared for a hefty bill.”


["Swollen lumber can cause a variety of damages"]

Handy Man / James Taylor / Rejigged to suit me.

Hey folks gather round, listen to what I'm putting down
Hey folks, I'm your Handy Man.
I am the kind that uses pencil and rule,
I'm handy with hammers and I'm no fool,
I fix broken gates, I know that I truly can.

Once I examined both gates I knew I was in for a big chore. The first gate, four feet wide, was heavier than the man who built it and I knew I couldn’t lift it off its hinges without breaking my back. A sharp saw and my belt sander, both very handy tools, did most of the work.


["The hinge sits on the surface of the lumber. I'll bury one side."]

The second gate was lighter so I removed it and sunk the hinges 1/8th of an inch (with my handy hammer and chisels) to provide the clearance needed. I sunk better and more screws into the hinges as well. I don’t want another phone call.


["The gate will soon swing freely and provide more privacy too."]

Oh, I’m a handy man all right (“Gather round!” Ha!), but I’m busy with birdhouses on the brain right now.

So, really, don’t call me.

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There’s Always Something: “You’re wall hanging is keeping me awake”

Two things happened last night I wasn’t expecting.

First, when I crawled into our 100-year old bed my weight caused a slat to shift and the mattress and bed irons fell to the floor.

What a noise. What a job fixing it while my wife, who had been sound asleep, stood next to me and kept repeating, “Why did you do that?”

Then, shortly after we crawled back into bed my wife turned and said, “Your wall hanging is keeping me awake.”

Sounds confusing, but I knew exactly what she meant.

The wall hanging (entitled “A Piece of Wood”), suspended from the ceiling of the front porch by two chains, was moving in the wind and thumping against the outer wall and we could hear the noise very clearly because we were trying to sleep on the other side of that wall.


[First, I stabilize "A Piece of Wood": photos GAH]

So, I began to think.

Should I try to fix the problem? How would I fix it? I’d have to take it down.

It’s darn heavy. It’s a two person job. It’s winter.

How strong is the wind? Will it bang all night? Can I fall asleep between thumps?

Should I respond to my wife’s comment?

I decided to try to fall asleep.

One hour later, after thinking of six different ways to solve the problem, I succeeded.


["Second, I pick that bottle off my lawn"]

There’s always something, eh?

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Did you have a good sleep last night?

Good for you.

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