Working with my hands

I’ve done a lot of things with my hands over the years. I’ve built beds for my daughters, end tables, an entertainment center, doo-dads too numerous to mention. For awhile, Mary and I supplemented our income making wooden craft items.

I can do electrical work, sweat copper, frame a house, hang drywall. I’ve built fences and walls. I can apply my own stage makeup, play guitar passably and make a mean waffle.

All these things I do with my hands. All these things require some degree of dexterity.

So why is it, when faced with my injured daughter’s need for help, that I proved an abject failure at wrapping a cast so that the shower stream can’t infiltrate? And why do Dad-made ponytails never look centered and tight?

I know I’m good with my hands, so these last couple of failures must be my daughter’s fault.