In praise of men who can do everything

OK, here's a confession that I'm not afraid to admit: I need a man.

Oh, stop snickering. It's not what you think.

Thankfully, I have a wonderful husband. I admire him for countless reasons.

Only one of the million reasons is because he's a man who can do everything.

I am so in awe of any man who picks up a hammer and screwdriver and makes magic.

If a kitchen drawer breaks and they no longer manufacture the broken part, David just sighs and goes about making one on his own.

You can take an engineer out of the workplace, but you can never take the engineer out of the man.

For that, too, I am grateful.

I am absolutely intrigued on how self reliant he is. If something breaks, he fixes it. If he doesn't know how, he figures it out and fixes it anyway.

Yes, David is a trained engineer. But my dad, who only went up to fifth grade, was the same kind of engineer. He could fix anything. From cars to plumbing to carpentry ... he could do it all. And he did.

I don't think Dad ever called a repairman. He just figured it out and did it himself.

A lot of men are like that. And I tell you this sincerely: I am in awe of any do-everything man.

A few of my friends scoff at me when I say that because they can do it all, too.

My friend Linda constantly amazes me along with her other friends at the way she plays plumber, home planner, carpenter, and problem solver.

The other day my friend Jeanne mentioned she had to take her van to the garage because the back door wouldn't stay closed. Linda took one look at it and solved the problem by cleaning the contact points.

"See? Easy!" Linda proclaimed.

Ha. Jeanne and I didn't even know there were such things as contact points that helped the door close.

"When you live alone and you don't have anyone to do things for you, you have to be able to do them yourself," Linda says simply as we stand there admiring her latest successful home project.

I, on the other hand, am the exact opposite. It's only been the last few years that I learned to tell the difference between a screwdriver and a wrench. But I'm still not good at using either one.

Look, I'm not one of the simpleton women who stand there whimpering when something needs to be done. But I know my strengths and I know my weaknesses.

Friends and family constantly tell me I am a gourmet cook. My daughter Maria says I can always turn a simple sandwich into a gourmet treat.

I think she's right. Creative cooking ability is something that was passed down in my family genes. But only my brother Richard got my father's mechanical ability.

Sometimes, I get determined I am going to do a simple project instead of waiting for David to get around to do it.

Putting up the Christmas tree was one such project. But before I could assemble it, I had to take it out of the box.

Why anyone used eight huge staples to seal the box I'll never know. I looked like a suma wrestler holding the box between my knees while I tried to yank out the stubborn staples.

When I found the directions for assembling the tree in the bottom of the box, the rest was easy. But I wasn't confident enough to put the fragile Christmas balls on the tree until David checked it and made sure it was done right.

When I first said I was going to put the tree together, he gave me one of those doubting "yeah, right" looks. He was effusive in his praise when he saw I did it.

While I was decorating the tree, I sang my own version of "Oh, Christmas tree, O tree I did by myself."

But to tell the truth, I didn't get the same satisfaction out of it that I get when I pull a steaming casserole from the oven.

The bottom line is I'm happy creating meals in the kitchen. I'm not happy doing anything the least bit mechanical.

I think it's overly complicated if I have to do anything more challenging than turning on a dimmer switch. As for installing a dimmer switch in the first place, well, that's why God created men.

OK ladies, don't send me hate mail telling me to grow up. I'm not going to grow into a mechanically competent being no matter how much growing I do.

And don't bother telling me women can do just about anything a man can do. I already know that.

It's just that this woman can't.

I can't let my muscles bulge as I lift something that almost weighs as much as I do.

I can't fix the leak in the shower.

Oh, wait, yes I can.

I just walk over to David and say, "Honey, can you fix the leaking shower? And of course, he does.

Ahhh, don't you just love a smart guy?