I have big plans. Well, for me they are big. I'm going to build two long planters for under the living room windows so that this spring I can put some flowers out there. I don't actually have plan, plans. I mean, no actual written down, drawn out plans. They're all in my head, which may be why I'm having a bit of a problem figuring this out. Now my dad fancied himself to be sort of a handyman also. He used to attempt all sorts of projects around our house. From the building of shelves in my sister's bedroom, to pushing the roof of our house out into a dormer. He did the dormer just fine, but those shelves did him in when he sat on a bag of nails. I can still see my mom picking them out of his ass cheeks and dabbing orange mercurochrome on each little nail wound. That is good for me, and bad, because I take after my dad in many ways. Dad was clumsy, dad was smart, dad felt that he could do anything that he tried, and dad could curse like it was his first language. So I am smart enough to know that I can do this planter thing, only I will probably have at least one bloody accident doing it and I will end up using every filthy curse word I have ever heard or thought of. I'll let you know how it all turns out.