I Lost My Hammer

My old red Camino cap, hardly red anymore.
My old red Camino cap, hardly red anymore.

Yes, a carpenter without his hammer is like a haystack without it’s needle. Something like that. Funny because just yesterday before I lost it I was thinking about getting buried with it, sort of a representative of all my tools. Kind of cool that the darned thing disappeared in such a timely fashion.

I was trying to get my job finished or close. Just replacing an old window for a friend. And my hammer disappears. But just driving on Vashon today and getting to the job is problematic. Town is clogged up with tourists visiting the Farmer’s Market. Right around the corner from the ranch are the now a little too famous Sheepdog Trials and the traffic from that. Then the clincher is the back roads being filled with bikers racing in this 70 mile race (on a 14 mile island) called, ready, Passport to Pain, yea. OK people, out of my paradise please.

Now just a little story about the new us and the old us that this Passport to Pain is reminding me of. A friend of mine here had a great friend who was this old cowboy. I think his name was John. So, John is riding shotgun on a little trip here on Vashon and they pass this jogger running on the side of the road. John gets excited and wants my friend to pull over and help the guy out. What do you mean help the guy? Well, he obviously lost his horse, why else would he be running?

The more I think about my idea to get buried with my hammer and then promptly loosing it, the more I have to laugh. Goes to show, quit trying to think too much about the darned future. Maybe I got more life to live, hey? If I find that hammer I’m throwing it in the Sound, love, Felipe.

4 thoughts on “I Lost My Hammer”

  1. Hola PFFelipe!

    We ARE too much alike, Amigo!. The overall group of us who lose hammers is “greater than the grains of sand at the seashore”, so that’s no biggy. But how many of us really think it would be cool to have a hammer in heaven? You know, to fix things that need fixing. And then, duh, I remember, things aren’t broken in heaven. But then, contrarian that I am, what if I LIKE fixing things? Don’t we get to do what we like in heaven? It’s complicated, man, complicated.

    I hope you can open this link. It’s a great little piece another of my Cancer Warriors sent me today. Really sounds like it fits you.

    https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10207545249689931&set=a.3033086746750.155727.1250345282&type=1

    My Camino Jennifer and My Camino Angela took a couple days off from their Arles Route Camino to bus to Lourdes and the grotto and Cathedral there. They’re overwhelmed by its loveliness and feeling of peace. I’ll do it someday too,

    SF,
    PFJ

    1. PFJ ~ this was not just any hammer. This was MY hammer and I lost it. Like losing your lucky toothbrush that you’ve had for fifteen years. And it’s like the rule of tape measures: one or many. Either you have one and you are psychically connected no matter where you are or what you are doing or you have twenty and they are scattered all over your work place and you can’t help but find one. The in between doesn’t seem to work.

      I don’t know if I really want to fix things in heaven but maybe with you it might be fun. We might have better things to do like tapas for instance. Oh I don’t know, we’re had ten thousand years of tapas, maybe time to fix something. We could play it by ear, no plans needed. Take care, Felipe.

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