The Way Things Are






This one was a cutting tool
2005-08-01, 1:46 p.m.

“This one was a cutting tool. See – this is where the thumb and index finger fit…” and he mimes cutting some imaginary piece of flesh or hide.

“And this one is obviously a hammering tool.” He strikes an imaginary target mid-air, saying “Bam! Bam!”

“This was a punching tool. See?” He shows me how the thumb and forefinger fit in the grooves along the sides of the rock, and punches the air with it.

“You obviously had a campsite here at one time. I’ll bet there are bird points out there right under the surface.”

My stepdad is an amateur geologist/archeologist/old stuffologist. He can walk down a busy downtown street, and if he can find a shard of rock to pick up, he will demonstrate how it was once a pre-historic or Native American tool or household item.

Big funky looking rocks? No, those are dinosaur bones.

Chips of rock from the bobcat digging up a trench? I think not – those are bits of flint that chipped off a bird point. He can show you the tool marks.

Glob of melted iron from the house fire that happened here 100 years ago? No, it’s even better than that. It’s either old musket-shot, or some kind of melted rock disgorged from a volcano extinct these many millennia.

When I picked Lil Guy up yesterday evening, he had to shove rocks out of his way in the floorboard of my car. He gave me a questioning look, and I replied “Pop was here this weekend.”

LG gives a knowing nod.

I continued, “Wherever a trench was dug, and the dirt is all overturned, he was finding old Indian artifacts. He could have stayed out there for hours. It’s good to know that when they come visit us, we can just turn him loose out in the yard, and he’ll stay occupied for hours.”

LG gives another knowing nod accompanied by a grin.

Folks, I am 41 today. So far, my office gave me cake and a little gift set of lavender-scented lotions, as well as a bottle of Lubriderm Skin-Nourishing Lotion with Shea and Cocoa Butters. I demonstrated that I would use this on my face and boobs to stave off old age, to much shocked laughter. Then Peaches gave me a set of body butters (doesn’t that sound dirty in a good way? Yes!) and a $30 gift cert to DSW, the mother ship for all shoe shoppers. Then they took me to lunch, and just now, flowers arrived from my littlest brother.

He’s all growed up. ::sniff::

DW gave me a kiss and said “Happy Birthday.” LG relented and wished me a happy one after I hinted around about how nice it is, once you learn it is somebody’s birfday, to actually wish them a happy birfday.

And I have decided to only say “birfday” from now on, in case you hadn’t noticed.

Next prime number birfday: 43.

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