The DIYer within

I am fairly confident guy. I feel that if I put my mind to something, I can do it, and do it pretty well. I think that given the right information, I can beat anyone in a fair game -- and can make a dent in an unfair one.

I don't think I am overly cocky. I am just... well... confident.

You need that growing up with male siblings, or to man the pipes in a football game, or to deal with coaching teenage ladies. Heck, being a married father. Confidence is the key. There are things that I am pretty awesome at (like making fun of people or making a mean, mean pot of boxed Jambalaya), but I don't want to brag. I like being confident.

To be honest, sometimes it's more about projecting confidence. It's about making people believe that even though you don't know what to do, you have the presence to figure out how to get it done in the long run. It's not about giving an answer, regardless of accuracy; it's about making sure everyone understands that when you do answer, you are giving the right one.

My bubbling projections generally squawk out the door in one area. It isn't just any area either; it calls into question whether or not Clint was right to revoke my Man Card for admitting that I like The Sound of Music.

I am not particularly handy. Home improvement is my personal Kilimanjaro.

I mean, I can do most simple things with the right tools and the right instructions. I still don't mean to brag, but I am a fantastic Googler, too. I know how to plunge a toilet, use drain cleaner and I am especially proficient at switching light bulbs. It's the other stuff that gets me. If it is electrical or mechanical in nature, competence is out the door, and I am reduced to an inconsolable puddle of tears. Manly tears.

My son is no help. While watching me re-arrange the pristine tools in my tool box, he innocently (yeah, okay) asked if my tools were so new. Yeah. Well, he's banned from playing Wii for the foreseeable future. Such cheekiness is not allowed here. Who's new now?

Anyhoo, the saga that was created by the fluorescent bulbs in he kitchen is an excellent illustration of my home improvement frailties. Both lights went out. Easy. I pulled the bulbs out, and went and got the exact replacement.

They didn't work. It ridiculous what these jokers will sell nowadays. They had CLEARLY sold me non-functioning equipment. I went back and got another 2-pack. And another.

Same issue. Uh oh. We were approaching crying territory. I consulted Google, and took the fixture apart. With the use of Google Search and Google Goggles, I guessed that it was some mysterious, alien object called a ballast. I promptly ordered one.

I asked around. It seemed the majority of people I talked to (well, one of seven) knew someone who had been maimed changing a ballast. Considering the fact that I already had a healthy, uh, fear of electricity, the odds looked horrible to me. I decided to cut power to the house.

Try to keep up with me here. The circuit box was outside. The key to the lock was missing. I had to go buy bolt cutters. A giant spider was guarding the box. I did not want to become Spider man or a spider meal, so I went to buy Spider killer. Then it rained. Then I lost my altimeter. In all, it was about nine months, give or take an hour, since the bulbs went out.

And I was still scared of electricity.

I know what you are thinking: Angel Gabriel had visited Mary, and the barn animals had observed the Holy Birth in the time this joker was taking to switch a light bulb. Wow. To my wife's credit, she had become used to cooking in semi-darkness. I adore that lady, sturdy eyes and all. But wait... there's more.

My journey of shame ended (or re-started, depending on your perspective) last week, when my father-in-law and brother-in-law switched out the ballast within five minutes. To make myself feel better, I pointed out to the kids that Uncle Ty did have a degree in Electrical Engineering, so the cheering was a bit overdone.

I did learn a few things. First, electric companies need better customer service. It is NOT unreasonable for me to have wanted them to cut off power to our entire subdivision. Also, children like light. It's sad that they considered a light as an early Christmas present.

But most importantly, unreasonable fear is mostly borne out of a lack of knowledge. And Google does not always trump real-world experience.

As for us, we are enjoying our light bulbs. Directly too, as I broke the cover doing re-installation. I have a year to get those fixed, so mind your business. Ha.

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Hotness

A quick birthday shout-out to my wife. As y'all know, she is hotness personified...

Happy Birthday, Cookie. I love you.

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New Stuff

I still have not figured out this marriage thing out.

Nearly a decade in, and I am still in the dark as to how women think. It's funny really. Almost a hundred and twenty months of matrimony. Two daughters. A mother. I coach young ladies, and minister to more.

The more I think about it, the more I am positive that it isn't my fault. I am a product of my environment. Growing up with three knuckle-headed receptacles of testosterone euphemistically called "brothers" damaged me.

So, I hereby confess: I am STILL clueless when it comes to women. Yes, I have been married for a little while, but while I readily bask in the applause and adulation that marital fidelity and longevity bring, if I were to be candid, I'd point out any success is not my doing, but based on prayer to a Dedicated Source.

Anyhoo, I have come to a decision. I have decided to do what any clueless guy would do. I have decided to do what any bloke who bumbles his way through matrimony would do.

I have decided to start giving marriage advice.

Yes, sir...

And before anyone starts throwing rocks, let me point out that people do this everyday. The former Governor of New York, brought down in a prostitution sting, gives lectures on ethics. His paid, er, confidante, is supposed to start a relationship advice segment. We all know about Dr Phil and his weight loss empire, right?

So, I am throwing my hat into the same circle. Starting next week, I will have a recurring article that graciously gives advice to people that need it. And every article will have relevant disclaimers, including the fact that almost none of the anecdotes come from personal experience. Ha.

Pray, people. Pray hard.

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Greening BFC

On Sunday, our pastor was talking about visiting the site of the future new Branch Family Church building (the plot had just recently been graded). He laughingly mentioned seeing something that warmed his heart: someone had created an impromptu marker by etching "BFC" in a slab of concrete. The person(s) garnished the top with a small branch. Derek made fun of the fact that there was no grass or greenery on the branch whatsoever.

Enter Mr Genius Landscaper, the Defender of all that could be lush (moi). I drove the family there, and spruced up the monument, using plucked grass and foliage from a nearby tree to create the facade of green.

As the family looked on in shame and confusion, I persevered and worked on my piggybacked masterpiece. I flirted with the idea of etching my name in the concrete base, but in the end, I figured that further "borrowing" of this intellectual property would be too shameful.

I figured that with this selfless offering, our church family would name the gymnasium after me.

Now that I have destroyed any chance of running a viable landscaping buisness, I present the "BFC Land marker Reimagined with a touch of Tre."

I'll accept a small shrub being named after me. Or a fence post. Please?

I am reluctantly posting this disclaimer: my wife wants it to be clear that though she was present, she had nothing to do with the crazy idea, and wants The Branch family to know what she goes through on a daily basis.
Praise God.

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Want a mistress? Think again...

In this story that blurs the line between real and incredible, we get yet one more reason why having a mistress is generally not a good idea...

I blame this on Twitter Pal Ben Cotten, who made the tweet that brought it to my attention.

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