Manly Men

On Memorial Day, manly men slay dragons and golf courses. They wrestle bears and moral quandaries. They prep the bbq and drink beer. They watch war movies and yell random things like, "Man the torpedoes!" and "Full speed ahead!" Over here in Sherman Oaks, my manly man is up on the roof, cleaning the solar panels. I have no frame of reference for such a manly activity. Growing up in Westwood, a shy, short gal full of big dreams, never once did I hear my dad, a WWII vet, announce, "I'm going up to deal with the solar panels. I won't be back till they're clean." Back then, rooftop solar panels were the stuff of science fiction. What's that? You want me to check my references? How dare you. Didn't you ever read "The Illustrated Solar Panel" by Ray Bradbury? One moment please. This blog has been interrupted by a snarky librarian. Stay calm. Okay, I'm back. She just informed me I eff'd up the title. It was "The Illustrated Man," not "The Illustrated Solar Panel." Whatevs! Before hubby made the trip up the manly ladder to do manly things, I said, "Why do you have to clean the solar panels?" "They're dirty." "I don't like when you're up there." "Don't worry." "Have you met me?" So. What's your manly man doing today?