Hello Everyone.
Editor's Note: Having written over 350 stories we thought we needed a little sabbatical. So, until the early March, we will be in re-runs. Please enjoy these previously published Neva tales from not so long ago.
Originally Published: August 12, 2002
Over the weekend, I was charged with the task of moving some sheets of plywood from one location in the garage to another and then back again. It is not my general practice to take my plywood out for a walk, in fact, I firmly believe that anything that makes you grunt when you pick it up should really be left where it is.
Neva, my soon-to-be three-year-old daughter, is the helpful sort who raids my toolbox then runs off to who knows where to fix something that we don't own with precisely the tools I need to finally fix the what-cha-ma-call-it that at any moment we will no longer own as the removal of those extra parts has rendered it unfit to perform the duty it was originally intended to do. But I digress ...
The plywood had to be moved so I enlisted my wife Kathleen to help me lug it around. Of course, when carrying large objects, a safe work area means keeping young children out from underfoot and this proved to be an easy task. I elected Neva as Operations Manager, Plywood Guidance and Placement, and we were ready to begin.
Off she went to survey the wood and then the empty space it soon was to occupy. The review completed, Neva took the helm and began barking orders:
"Okay, c'mon, this way. Good job. Easy now, easy."
Happy sweeping,
Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com
