"Well, what do you think?" my husband asked, his left arm stretched out as if presenting a showpiece of his work.

The miniature Christmas tree lights were strung around the tree like a spiral staircase leading to nowhere. They ended abruptly just short of the last row of fragrant limbs.

"Mmm, that looks good," I said, trying to spare his feelings. "But did you notice that there are no lights on the bottom of the tree?"

"I can fix that," he said and promptly yanked the last row of flickering lights, sliding them down to rest on the last set of branches. The tree swayed in its red and green stand, threatening to topple over. But my husband thrust his shoulder into the scented boughs to brace its fall. The tree shuddered but remained upright.

"Well, what do you think now?" he asked, brushing pine needles from his hair.

"I think it looks great except that there's a large area on the tree without illumination."

Have I mentioned that my husband is extremely handy when it comes to emergency situations? He's a McGyver of sorts.

When our kitchen faucet was leaking, he carved two notches on either side of a Cool Whip container so that it would fit snugly under the faucet. The container collected the drips. A small slit in the bottom of the plastic allowed the water to trickle through it and into the sink.

I can remember when my eldest son, who was in second grade at the time, had an end-of-the-year project. My husband stayed up late one night to help our son build a model hale (house). Short on materials, he helped him construct the hale, using newspaper and duct tape.

Talk about ingenious!

So when I expressed concern about the large gap in the tree devoid of flickering lights, he had a brilliant solution.

He rummaged through the blue bin, which stores our Christmas decorations and pulled out a box of large Christmas bulbs used for outdoor lighting.

He carefully strung the strand on the tree and stepped back.

"What do you think now?" he asked.

"To be honest, honey," I said. "I think it looks like a "poor thing" Christmas tree."

"What do you mean poor thing," he laughs. "It looks great!"

My 11-year-old walked into the living room after hearing our conversation.

"Dad," he said sternly. "That is not going to work. It looks too kapulu (something that is done carelessly or without regard)."

"Well, son," my husband said with a chuckle. "There is certainly no accounting for good taste."

Reach Ka'ohua Lucas at Family Matters, 'Ohana section, The Honolulu Advertiser, P.O. Box 3110, Honolulu, HI 96802; fax 525-8055; or at ohana@honolulu advertiser.com.