I suppose in life we all construct things. Today, for example, I joined about a billion people and constructed this blog. Last night I helped my son construct a box for his school Valentine's party. Once I constructed a hutch for some pet guinea pigs, although it was rather shaky construction.

Some of my construction projects have been failures. I tried constructing a baby blanket using yarn and knitting needles. That failed. I have tried repeatedly to construct those delicious lemon squares and failed every time. I've tried to construct photo albums with cute decorations for each of my children. I didn't fail immediately, but since I haven't added to them in about four years, I suppose that would slide over into the failure column of my life.

Some of my personal construction projects are on-going. I am trying to construct a new life for myself after a divorce. I am trying build my children into constructive adults. I am trying to write the great American novel.

But since fiction doesn't pay well (at all,) I have been working part time as a technical writer to help construct a future website with my friend, Michael, a general contractor. His business is primarily kitchen and bathroom remodels and residential additions, although his company completes a wide range of residential projects. I ran into a temporary work slow down with the techical writing, however, and I needed to take on more work. So I asked my friend Michael if I could work as a laborer on his job sites while I also learn some of the skills about which I had been writing. I might also be able to gather some photos for the future web site. To my delight, he said yes.

So today I started my construction job. It was just as fun as I'd imagined. I got to use power tools, a caulking gun, and a garbage bag. I got to climb ladders, hold wood, and even snap a line of chalk.

I headed for work with a knot in my stomach like a tangled extension cord. Even though I had come to know the guys in Michael's crews, I was a girl. (OK, I turn 41 this week, so I am using the term "girl" loosely.) They are good guys. They follow the lead of the boss by not cussing a lot on the job. I've never noticed any of them behaving like the stereotypical crude construction worker. When I've been on job sites as a technical writer with Michael, I've never heard anyone make catcalls or behave in any way that made me uncomfortable. They are good guys. But I'm a girl, so I was worried the guys would feel like I was intruding into their territory.

Would they resent me being there? Would they assume I wasn't strong enough for most of the work? Would they let me try anything interesting? Would I be in the way? Would they think I'd be useless?

Or would I really be useless? Would I make a mistake? Break a tool? Scratch a cabinet? Throw the whole job schedule off? Would I get injured or injure someone?

And did I dress right? Should I have packed my lunch? Would I be able to use the bathroom? I felt like a kid going to a new school midyear, after everyone has already made their friends.

I arrived just as one of the guys was backing the trailer into the customer's driveway. Don introduced himself with a friendly handshake and said with a smile,"So you must be the mole I heard was coming out to the jobsite." Apparently the guys also had some anxieties that I had not considered. But his laughter put me at ease.

The job was a kitchen remodel in its final stages. Today's task, putting in shelves, hanging doors, and filling in some floor. There were only two guys on the job today, Stan and Don. They were great about letting me watch over their shoulders and giving me some tasks I could handle with no experience yet. It didn't take long, however, to realize what makes this job so fun.

Carpentry is absolutely loaded with double entendres. I had authentic questions and they had authentic answers. Try to imagine saying any of the following out loud, without blushing or grinning.
"To get the screw in you have to apply more pressure here."
"There are different speeds for screwing. Stan prefers a faster screw. I prefer to screw at a slower speed."
"The screw should be a little longer than the hole."
"If you twist a cheap screw too tight, the head will snap right off."

That actually happened: a screw head snapped off, creating a puzzle of aligning all the cabinet doors on that wall. All work stopped while solutions were considered. I had an observation I hesitated to say aloud. Don noticed my hesitation and encouraged me to share.

"So a cheap screw in the wrong place can throw off your whole day's work?"
"Yes," Don agreed. "A good quality screw in the right place is always better than a cheap screw in the wrong place."

Isn't carpentry wonderful?