It was clear from a young age that should any of the Coen children have a future in a line of work where the use of hands and some sort of creative capacity is required, it would be highly unlikely that I would be that child. I was always the kid who was coloring outside the lines and whose attempts at cursive writing looked less like English and more likesome undiscovered (or discovered and recovered due to its ugliness) language.

As I got older, this lack of skill shifted into the industrial arts, as I proved myself incapable of even the simplest wood shop tasks. The simple box that was one of our earliest projects turned out, in my hand, to be less of a box and more of a collection of wood that was nailed, glued, and otherwise fastened in relative proximity. I was able to do some things, but they were the most basic things. I could turn pieces of the lathe and use some of the less complicated machines to do simple, repetitive tasks, but it was clear that when I was called upon to find my life's work, it would not be anything requiring me to be handy.

Jump forward a couple of decades, to my entry into the world of home ownership with a domicile that, kindly, can use some updating. It is now where those failings in shop class have come home to roost. This was put in clearest relief this past weekend, when my father in law was down to help with some of that updating. Between the discussion of our beams, the problems with our basement stairs, and an earnest discussion of what tools I will not be able to live without, I was left wondering why we didn't do the smart thing and get one of the new, ready to move in condos that are sprouting up all over town.

Not that progress wasn't made. My father in law, while using me in my best capacity (carrying and holding things), was patient and gave me some pointers that will, hopefully, be the start of learning how to do some of the things that need doing around here. I'll still mostly be the guy in the Home Depot ads who goes to classes to learn about angle stock and such (as our hose attachment is actually broken), but when my father in law explained how I should use the pieces he cut to build a new staircase for our cellar entrance, it actually made a little sense.

Not that I'll tackle it myself. I'll rope my brother into helping. He's the one who got the handy gene.