I like to think I learned a lot from my Dad: how to be a gentleman, how to get a broken-down car home, MacGyver-style, how to appreciate simple things made from the heart, and, of course, Lyle Johnson Specials.  But one thing that didn’t transfer to me was a love of yard work.

I despise mowing the lawn, whacking the weeds, watering the grass, or working on landscaping.  I suppose I could think of it metaphorically, nurturing my soul or body to health, and it might seem less abhorrent.

On second thought, no.  I don’t want to start hating metaphors.