Holes

Lately I've been arranging for men to put holes in my walls, and then other men to come and patch those holes up.

The hole maker is my long-time friend, Darrin, father of my favorite boys and electrician extraordinaire. He graciously moved my ceiling fixture so it now hangs properly centered over my table, and scooted up the light switch by a few inches to allow for my new marble back splashes.

I paid him not in cash but in a bottomless pit of grilled cheese sandwiches, apple slices and cookies for his six growing boys, who came along to supervise the work.That's what I call a win-win.

The hole patcher is my new painter, Marty, who came to me recommended by one of my math families. Small world - he's a pastor at a local church and we discovered a surprising number of friends and acquaintances in common. He tells me that he has six kids and ten grandchildren, though I served grilled cheese sandwiches to none of them. Maybe next time.

Now with the help of these two fine gentlemen, the necessary holes in my walls have been both made and repaired. And you'd think I would be ready to leave well enough alone.

But now we have discovered water damage behind the family room wall, and I've begun the process of taking bids for new men to come and make new holes in my walls...these men are called moisture mediators and they will undoubtedly make a mess of things. So I'm also looking for construction guys to eventually come and put my walls right again.

Looks like my game of Holes isn't over just yet.

You've got to gooo and dig those holes.

Dig it uh uh oh. Dig it.