In the middle of my shower this morning, an odd expression I heard in childhood came rushing back into my mind. I grew up in Dundalk, a blue-collar suburb of Baltimore. Warm summer evenings were spent outside, the kids chasing fireflies to put in a jar, and the adults talking over the fence, although as close as the houses were you didn't even need to go outside to talk over the fence. The men seemed to perpetually discuss cars which didn't interest me at the time so I tended to pay more attention to the ladies' conversations. They would cover the usual husband and kids topics and eventually get around to various unfinished projects in and around the house. Everyone seemed to have a room that sorely needed painting, a bedroom in the midst of remodeling for more time than anyone could remember or maybe a plumbing issue that threatened to end the marriage in the near future. Somewhere in the middle of these complaints someone would utter "The cobbler's children have no shoes". Having read all the latest children's books of the day I knew a cobbler was a shoemaker. It seemed that most, if not all, of our various small shopping centers had a shoe shop with a large window so you could watch the shoemaker replace soles and heels on shoes. Having heard this expression on a regular basis, every time I saw a kid in the neighborhood playing barefoot in the grass, I just knew it was one of the cobbler's kids although I hoped he got around to making them some shoes before the first snows came. Now that I'm considerably more worldly I realize that this expression just means that if someone works at a particular occupation every day, chances are they won't perform the same tasks at home. Since both my daughters are married to carpenters and I married a plumber, I've developed a more modern theory to explain this phenomenon to my daughters. After all, when was the last time you met a cobbler? I think what happens at the end of a long work day for these tradesmen is that the moment their feet hit the driveway at home they suffer an attack of spontaneous amnesia. This particular state manifests itself by blank looks when asked if they plan on working on a particular project that evening or weekend, followed closely by pushing random numbers on the tv remote while staring at the screen with a contented smile. I've found that even if you hand a carpenter a hammer or a plumber a wrench, they gaze at it as if some mutant animal has suddenly taken root at the end of their arm and there is absolutely no comprehension of what this thing is or why it's even there. Miraculously though, by the time they arrive at the job the next time, the amnesia has left, the fog has lifted and the tools become an extension of who they are!! All of these thoughts passed thru my barely awake mind this morning as I stood in my combination tub and shower trying to revive myself. Now you may think that most everyone has a combination tub and shower, and they might....but not like mine. In mine, you get to take both a bath and a shower at the same time.....probaly due to the fact that it takes the better part of the week to get the tub to drain! Having been married to a plumber for almost 26 years, I've gotten very friendly with my wrench and plunger. I'm thinking that tub drain may be my next victim, I mean, project. By the way, I wonder if the long hair craze of the 60's was started by the barber's kids......hmmmmm