Five hours and counting ‘till my daughter’s wedding, and here I was with black stained fingertips. I’d like to blame my wife for giving me wimpy polishing rags, but hey, I’m a grown man. So now my packer boots looked good for a cowboy wedding, and my fingers looked like a 5 yr. old in paint class.

How many types of solvent do you think I have at my house, not including the 95 octane can of gasoline? 5. Plus 2 kinds of dish soap, 3 types of bar soap (including a walnut sized blob of “Grandpa’s Old Fashioned Bar Soap”.)

Nylon brushes. wash clothes. Dirt. Anything abrasive short of the 40 grit sanding belt, and don’t think that it didn’t enter my mind.

By the time I was done, My hands had pale grey fingertips, and I could have slid my hands into a ladies size medium opera glove. I began practicing marching down the aisle with clenched fists. Not exactly the image I wanted to portray.

Somehow, like at all weddings, it came together at the last second. Next time I’ll polish my boots with black Magic Markers…