d.i.y.

Broken things

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I was a cheap bastard, even when I made a living wage. This won’t surprise any of the coworkers from my careers in marketing…

Just a-Swingin’

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There are miserable things about living in the South. I’m not talking about racism and poverty, which are everywhere. (I’ve got a couple of…

Pea Shell, My Belle

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I’ve repaired Adirondack chairs that were rotting and turned shipping pallets into adorable porch swings. But for my money (or lack thereof), peapod wine is the ultimate trash-to-treasure. We literally are turning shells that were bound to be thrown in with hog slop into quite drinkable table wine.

Hard: Wood Floors

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It takes a lot to make this grown man cry. When our party of five watched the (Mister) Fred Rogers documentary “Won’t You Be…

Jenn-yard

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Eighty-seven pictures of medallions, set in stone, hammered in metal, or painted in fresco. It didn’t matter if they were on the streets of…

Knock on Wood

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If there were any questions about my latent adolescence, they’ve been pounded away with the mallet I’ve been using to install hardwood flooring. Whatever…

Sound ’vision

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“Throw away your television.” That’s what everyone’s telling me. And by everyone, I mean Jenn. And Chuck Klosterman.1 And the Red Hot Chili Peppers and…

Upward Dog

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Maybe a dozen years ago, we were sipping some beers at a wedding reception in Montgomery. It was a good vibe, with a live…

In a nutshell

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Up the road a few miles from work, there’s a big swath of state land, abutting the Chattahoochee River. Jenn and I took a…