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Deep Thoughts - Reader Beware

39K views 341 replies 76 participants last post by  chrisstef 
#1 ·
Mortises at 11PM

First, the caveat:

I've been spending a lot of time thinking about woodworking, trying to make sense of what it is that has always drawn me to it. I'm notorious for over-thinking, overanalyzing and basically spending too much energy navel-gazing. This blog is intended to get some of it out of my head. I'll be glib, sarcastic and flippant in my other posts. Who knows how this one will turn out. It may be a train wreck, so reader beware! If navel-gazing doesn't hold any appeal or distraction for you, move on. If you're allergic to estrogen, move away quickly.

My own personal rules are to not to spend more than 30 minutes on any one post. I can correct a mistake if I catch it right away, but can't go back. If I post it, I can't edit or delete. I tend to edit things to death and have been known to delete my posts before it's too late. (If you're reading this Monte - you caught me)

If anything resonates with you, feel free to chime in.


It's 9:22

My Nanny lived into her 90s and was a great old gal. Hard life is an understatement. She played hockey on the marshes in the 1930s wearing a long wool skirt. She married her husband and by all accounts, things went to sh
t after that. 7 kids, 2 died, husband left, no welfare, worked as a cleaning lady in the hospital. Working poor in a small city. My mom didn't have new shoes until high school.

By the time I knew her, she lived in an apartment. She smoked Benson and Hedges cigarettes, read Louis L'Amour novels, went to Bingo and quilted. She was a hoot. She taught me how to play poker, and when she took her morning medication she'd make some comment about taking her "burt control pills" because you never know who might show up. I tried to get her to teach me how to quilt. It didn't go well. She couldn't slow her hands down enough for me to follow what she was doing. I bought a book, figured it out and was off to the races. Queen sized quilt for my husband when we were married, one for my brother and his first wife, one for each of my children. Then I got too busy and haven't touched it since. I loved working with my hands and producing something, so quilting was enjoyable in that regard, but it didn't float my boat. I didn't go to bed and dream about paisley and wax philosophical about different fabrics.

I make bread. Bought a bread maker and hated it. I make it by hand, have made sourdough starters that sat in the back of the fridge, made artisan bread, used the steam method. I make it fairly regularly but it's fallen into the category of 'something I do as a mother and wife'. I feed my family. We eat crap fairly often, but for the most part we eat home cooked meals at the kitchen table. I've got one shot at raising my children and I take it very seriously.

I've scrapbooked. Gone to weekend 'scraps' bought tools, embellishments and did pages celebrating minutiae.
I was making something with my hands, and I still do some, but in a very scaled back way.

So what is it about wood? When the work/family/life thing gets crazy I tell my friends that I want to be a carpenter when I grow up. Or is wood going to be like the other 'hobbies'? Jump right in, by the tools, work away and then walk away? At this point I don't think so.

The gender issue is inescapable, but is a touchy topic. I can't pretend to understand all women, nor can I even to begin to understand men. For whatever reason, I've found men to be more straightforward. For the most part. If they don't like you, you know. If a woman doesn't like you, all her friends now and you're the last to figure it out. Now I want to delete this. Crap. Back to wood.

Last night I was cutting, or is it chiseling? mortises at 11pm. I was in my sock feet in the garage because I had just gone out to put something in the recycling bin. Then I just took a look at my first mortise, then I measured a few things again, looked at the plans, and the picked up a chisel just to put it away. I could have stayed in the garage all night, but knowing that I have to be a reasonably pleasant human being in the morning finally had me hit the hay. I went to sleep thinking about the mortises, how I cut the stretcher pieces for the workbench a bit narrow, and that maybe the shoulders of the tenon would be to0 narrow as a result, and how I should really check that in the morning and adjust the size of the mortises and tenons on that piece.

9:42 hmmm that went by quickly. That's the point I guess. When I'm working with wood, I don't notice the time flying by. I was using the chisels with a hammer wrapped up in an old facecloth because I don't have a whatchyacall it yet. The word will come to me. Mallet. That's it, I don't have a mallet yet. So I was figuring out how much easier it was to cut the sides of the mortise because I was cutting with the grain, and how different it was to cut across the grain. When my second mortise fit nicely I was thrilled. Beyond thrilled. My hubby is away (back tomorrow) but as supportive as he is, I really don't think he would have wanted to come out to the garage after midnight to appreciate that the tenon fit tightly and that the shoulders were flush with the board all around.

I guess that's today's deep thought - Nobody expects me to be good with wood. It's not on the list of things I must do to be a good mother, good wife, good employee, allround decent human. It's not an obligation and it's certainly not expected of my gender. Maybe that's what the appeal is. Who knows. I used to envy my brothers for going to Boy Scouts and doing 'cool' things like building fires and camping. In brownies we learned about the Queen mother. Not cool. So I guess that makes woodworking 'cool'.

9:52. I'm going to instantly regret posting this. AAAAAAAAGH
 
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#2 ·
Well said!

I'm glad that you are putting your thoughts down. I enjoyed learning your perspective on things. You definately have your head on straight (whether you believe so or not)! I think many can benefit from your candor and outlook towards life & priorities.

I look forward to reading more!!!
 
#3 ·
I do not understand this gender thing at all. I try to get my wife involved in wood working and she just would not do it. She had an antique desk that belonged to her mother that she wanted to restore. I suggested she do most of the work on it because it would mean so much more to her. She agreed and spent weeks hand sanding that desk. I could tell too that she truly enjoyed it. After that, I thought I'd be able to get her to get more involved in it. As soon as the desk was done though, she hasn't touched another piece of wood.
Gender should not even be a factor in it. If you like it, enjoy it to the max. Cut mortises until three in the morning if you like. I think wood working is just something that some people take to naturally. I never imagined myself a wood worker until I tried it almost by accident. I've been hooked ever since. Loved ones think I'm completely nuts when I caress and get lost in the grain of some interesting piece of wood. I tell them that wood is my mistress.

I have found myself in the shop "tinkering around" a bit because I couldn't sleep, and lost track of time until I happened to noticed the sun was coming up. It happens. Think about the alternative though. I also have laid in bed miserable because something in the shop was on my mind. I've forced myself to stay in bed because I knew I needed sleep while some little thing in a current project was on my mind and driving sleep so far from me that there was no way I'd ever catch it. I've come to the conclusion that in times like those, it's better to get on to the shop. Think about it. Which is better? Would you rather be in the shop working on the problem? Or stuck in bed worrying about the problem?

This brings me back to the original gender issue. I've heard for years that men are problem solvers and women are thinkers. I disagree. Most women I know solve problems while a lot of men drink their beer and talk about the problem. The problem is that a lot of women, out of the goodness of their hearts, let men think they solved the problem so they don't bruise their male egos.
Because of this, I think a lot of women would be great at wood working and really enjoy it if they gave it a chance. I also believe that some men would never admit it if their wives turned out to be better at wood working than they were. That though gets into one of the many joys of wood working. How do you determine is the wife is better than the husband? You can't because the greatest joy of wood working is not the destination of accomplishment. It is the journey of learning the process. I think one could study and do wood working their whole life and still have enough left to learn to fill several more lifetimes. That keeps it interesting and something that anyone who enjoys it will keep coming back to.

So what am I saying? You have to excuse me. I do ramble on a lot. I am a thinker though. I overthink everything. The only time I think I actually do anymore is in my wood shop.
I'm say that your statement, "The gender issue is inescapable", is wrong. It is easily escapable. Simply tell anyone who doesn't think you should be enjoying wood work to go to hell. It isn't them you should worry about making happy. If you want to cut mortises at 11P.M, then by all means, cut mortises at 11P.M.

I guarantee you that the mortise will be around to be appreciated long after someone else's bread, scrapbook, or whatever is forgotten about.
 
#4 ·
DIY - thanks. Beer's on me.

William - Loved reading this. You say you overthink things - glad I"m not the only one!
You're right about the gender thing not mattering to woodworking. I guess what I could say is that it's inescapable for me. My worst enemy is between my own two ears. I can't hold anyone responsible for the expectations I place on myself. And you are DEAD on with the line: "The only time I think I actually do anymore is in my wood shop."

Thanks
 
#5 ·
I always enjoy your posts. Maybe because of the similarites to my spouse and our life. As I've said, my wife has some recent serious health issues. Also, she too gets along better with men.

However, my wifes interest is running. Despite her battle with lupus, she ran a 1/2 marathon last year and plans 2 more this year. We often joke that we try our best to stay interested when the other is rambling about running or woodworking. Deep down we're just happy each other has something we enjoy so much.

I share some of your OCD-like issues when it comes to posts and other stuff. I just try to tell myself I'm among friends. Hopefully they know I'm not an idiot (typos etc.). If they are overly critical, I probably wouldn't want them as a friend anyway. Helps me anyway.

As far as why we're drawn into woodworking with no return in sight. Shoot they've got entire books about that.
 
#6 ·
Good story, I too have a problem with wanting to over edit things. I seldom post because of it. I'm not saying I don't keyboard it all in but I just delete them because they don't look right. I have been enjoying reading your posts lately.
 
#7 ·
Good thinking, and great sharing. My mother, then my oldest sister, then her oldest daughter all were bread
bakers-cinnamon rolls-buns-all part of it. It was part of being a mother to them, the daughter uses a wood
stove/oven because she likes it. It is part of them, and the smell of fresh baked bread is part of their home.
My second oldest sister remodeled her house because her husband did not want to do it and she thought it
should be done. Knocked out walls and everything. As Helluvawreck mentions we all seem to be marching
to a different drummer, but as long as we and those important people who love/put up with us are happy,
lets sort of ignore the rest of them and have fun in the workshop and where ever else we can. Thank you
for sharing.
 
#9 ·
Oddly enough, I got woodworking from my mother. She will be 84 in July and still does a lot of woodworking. I am not sure why more women don't get into the more artistic side of woodworking. In my mind I have always thought that women are more natural artisans than men. My only suggestion may sound sexist, but society says women aren't supposed to get dirty. You can't do this and stay clean.

I like the fact that you're open about issues. It forces some of the grumpy old men to be realistic and open about issues. Keep it up.
 
#10 ·
Dan - sounds like your wife and I are cut from the same cloth. Prior to my health issues, I ran 3 marathons.

Monte - you might have a point there. Also, in my day, most girls weren't exposed to woodworking so it wasn't on our radars at all.

Thanks gents. The fact that you read my ramblings and took the time to respond means that I'll probably do it again. :) Have a great day.
 
#11 ·
Sandra,

"Nobody expects me to be good with wood" Hmm? You are in a profession that people might not expect, except there are a lot of cop shows?

I worked with a kid, who's dad seemed to be "too busy", but had problems of his own. So I brought some hand tools and saw horses, and took him to the parking lot, and we proceded to learn how to saw, hammer, and drill. I assigned a task. "build me a birdhouse."

This shamed dad into working with his son. Sad? But it worked. got dad out of himself and into his kid.

My wife has helped me tear down and rehab an old house. She would play for hours as a kid designing clothes. She has pattern recognition, and creative know how. She also is a very creative writer. I'm working with the wood, and she supports that.

She is not doing any of it right now. Fascinated with the internet. So was the kid. He was a "gamer". I get a lot of them. Childhood perceptions stay with us and modify our present perceptions.

My dad did all the building maintenance. I watched and then got caught one day making stuff with "his tools"

There are many manifestations ( big word…LOL) of woodworker. I would suggest "The impractical Cabinet Maker" by Krenov. It may help with your navel gazing…he's great with words and wood!

Above all, you have a supportive family. And a passion for wood. And maybe you are just being yourself?

Maybe you are just opening another creative door? Enjoy the ride?
 
#12 ·
Sandra,

I'm taking pictures now, in the shop. I can then show my wife.."I did that!" The journey is my challenge? They aren't us, but I believe support us in being us…LOL!

Going to find my conduit, wire, and electrical tools….220 here I come.
 
#13 ·
Nice story. Thanks for posting.

When I was three or four years old, I remember Mom and me on our hands and knees on the kitchen floor doing finger painting on large sheets of butcher paper. Mom promoted creativity. She was into toll painting, sewing, and all kinds of arts. Mom was a cub scout den mother, and her dad was a carpenter.

Also at the age of three or four, Dad and I would stay up late; pull the blinds on the kitchen windows; put in a "darkroom bulb" in the kitchen light fixture; and develop film and print black and white pictures. I'm now trying all kinds of woodworking projects. Each projects seems to spawn four more - and it just keeps growing! I do find myself at all hours in the garage (in my pajamas) fiddling with mortise and tenons. What a cool way to make wood do neat stuff!
 
#14 ·
When we did a total kitchen remodel a couple of years ago, my wife and I shared inputs, as we both cook. She did the drafting, as she knew how she wanted things arranged. Together we revised as needed, and sometimes made it up as we went. Did 95% of it with recycled oak. Often when I have a "how to" problem that has me bamboozled, I'll solicit her ideas, and she often points out something that was staring me in the face. She's a talented crafter, though WW hasn't attracted her-yet.

Your allusion to childhood was evocative. I only came to realize in later years how lucky I was in my parents. My dad bought a Sears TS in the late 1940s, and I started using it as soon as I could see over the table. No instruction, no warnings, and I never got hurt. He never yelled at me for using his tools, or told me I couldn't do something, or put down the stuff I did. As a consequence, I have never feared taking something apart to see how it works, sometimes to fix it or improve its function. That's one of the reasons I like used tools-no warranty to obsess about. In fact, I'm notorious for taking even new tools, getting irritated at some functional inadequacy, and modifying it in some way, thereby voiding the warranty (from reading a lot of LJ posts, warranties often aren't worth a hoot anyhow).

In contrast, there is my wife's ex. He was taught by his dad that he couldn't do anything right, so he became totally anal about the right way to do stuff. He's terrified of doing it "wrong". I say, be bold, try things out, don't be afraid of finding out that something didn't work as planned (I have a number of aborted little projects that didn't quite gel; doesn't bother me a bit, except that when I come across one, I ponder it for a moment wondering if it's worth taking up again).

I really appreciate this thread, thanks for starting it. It's too easy to go on and on. So I'll stop.
 
#16 ·
Sandra,
You use the language exceptionally well. And, as Randy put it , you do have your head on straight.
Your kids will remember your loves and passions more than anything else. And they will treasure the products of them.
Please continue to allow us to explore your fertile mind through your excellently constructed and interesting prose.
 
#17 ·
Hey Sandra - thanks for the deep thoughts….it really helped brighten my day up….you put a lot of consideration in all things important…....and mortises at 11 seems to be important and I can relate….the Queen mother….not so much!! LOL…...
 
#18 ·
As I was cooking dinner tonight, I was thinking about your views on gender expectations and had a chuckle.
You see, I'm not able to hold down a job because of past back injuries. I have good days where I can walk, but in pain. Then I have bad days when I'm confined to a wheelchair. The thing is though, besides my woodworking hobby, my "job" is housework and taking care of the kids. My wife is a security guard and brings home the bacon. When I'm not able to stand to do what I need to, like wash clothes or cook dinner, it presents the opportunity to teach my boys to do housework as well.
I have seven sons and one daughter. I teach my boys to never depend on a woman to do all the housework. I tell them they never know if they may be in a situation like myself and have to take care of a household, or in the event they are longtime bachelors, I don't want them living in a pig pen. I teach my daughter to never depend on a man to take care of her financially. She never knows. Her husband may become disable, die, or she may decide she simply does not want a husband.

In the end though, this gender expectation subject brings me back to my own upbringing. I was raised by my uncle and grandmother due to an absent, alcoholic father. My uncle, the man I learned everything from, and have always looked up to as what a man should be, was a twenty three year military veteran. He taught me to cook, sew, clean, and do things that some people consider "woman's work".
I put that in parenthesis because that statement is a crock of $#!+, of course. That statement, "woman's work" makes me think of my grandmother. your description of your nanny made me think of her too. My grandmother would have said, while taking a draw off her Virginia Slim, "noone puts this woman in her place. I do what I damned well please and I have a .357 that dares anyone to say otherwise".
 
#19 ·
Gene, I'm blushing. Thank you.

William - love the granny image. I completely agree that the gender issue is often not an issue at all, and I wasn't complaining about it - I'm the master creator of the list of things I think I must do to be a good mother, wife etc.
If my house is messy, I feel it's a reflection on me, not my husband. Nobody has ever said that to me or even insinuated it. Of course there is that nagging little voice that sounds remarkably like my mother's..

Like you, I'm dealing with medical issues. I'm still very mobile, but have some weird and wonderful progression of nerve damage to my extremities. That's what makes this site great. We all have a story, and we can tell it over a pile of wood shavings. Oh, and do some woodworking too!

JL7 - thanks for that.
 
#20 ·
I have 4 brothers and no sisters. Mom was determined that we would take care of ourselves and depend on no one. While we were in our teens we were required to cook meals for the family, learn to do our laundry and make our own clothes. As teenage boys we felt abused. Of 5 adult men, only one has dependency problems. He's been married 4 times and still looking for the right one. I have always done the cooking. I do not allow microwave meals in my house.I cook ffrom scratch as my mother showed me. My main problem is that I am too independent. Even during the17 years I was married I did my own laundry and most of the cooking. I take care of mom now. I owe her that.
 
#22 ·
A snippit of less than 30 minutes with you is little to go on. But it seems like you're the type who uses things in your life to learn about yourself. (I like you already.) In which case woodworking will be another thing that gets sidelined when you feel you've processed (over thought) what you need to process. Unless this is the time around where you consciously realize that that's what's happening. In which case you've just opened up the possibility of falling in love with working the wood for this thing it gives you. And opened up to a lifetime of learning from the wood.
 
#23 ·
Pain pain pain

First, the caveat:

I've been spending a lot of time thinking about woodworking, trying to make sense of what it is that has always drawn me to it. I'm notorious for over-thinking, overanalyzing and basically spending too much energy navel-gazing. This blog is intended to get some of it out of my head. I'll be glib, sarcastic and flippant in my other posts. Who knows how this one will turn out. It may be a train wreck, so reader beware! If navel-gazing doesn't hold any appeal or distraction for you, move on. If you're allergic to estrogen, move away quickly.

My own personal rules are to not to spend more than 30 minutes on any one post. I can correct a mistake if I catch it right away, but can't go back. If I post it, I can't edit or delete. I tend to edit things to death and have been known to delete my posts before it's too late. (If you're reading this Monte - you caught me)

If anything resonates with you, feel free to chime in.

10:39 pm
Pain is a relative thing. I have relatives who have caused me pain, but that's not what I'm talking about.
I've been asked by numerous doctors and nurses to rate my pain on a scale of 1 to 10. My scale has changed significantly in the past 2 years. My 10 used to be a needle through an infected big toe. That pain lifted me right up off the table. My 10 is now the indescribable pain of a 'spinal headache' after a spinal tap.
That was beyond anything I've ever experienced or ever want to experience ever again. It was the only time I ever wanted to die. The pain was that bad that I just wanted it to stop, whatever it took. So that's my new 10.
But what about living at a 6 day in and day out? It wears on a soul and affects everything. I'm apparently a bit difficult to live with when I'm in pain. Really? What a surprise.
I don't live a 6 day in and day out, but I have many days at a 6 or 7 and then I have a few fantastic days when I'm at a 2 or 3. I'm so close to zero that I'm giddy. I try not to overdo it, or overthink and just enjoy it, but it's almost bittersweet because it comes to an end.
10:46 Now that was dark and depressing. Maybe this is where I tell you that pain is a blessing, yadda yadda, has shown me how wonderful the world is, and that my friends would be complete and utter BS. Pain stinks. It rots, and it slowly erodes your soul.
10:48 9 minutes in and I can't think of what to say. I did do 8 weeks of pain management and I must say it was somewhat helpful. We discussed neuro-plasiticity and how the brain processes pain, and what we can do to manage it etc etc. We breathed and stretched and 'mindfully' walked around the room. Don't laugh, it was actually beneficial. The biggest thing I took away from that is the difference between pain and suffering.
Pain is the physical sensation. Suffering is the story we tell ourselves about it. Kind of rings true.
10:52
Don't get me wrong, I have good days, good moments and lots of laughs. But being in pain is an isolating experience. It boils everything down quickly to 'what am I able to do' and within that 'what do I want to do'.
Tonight I just wanted to get out to my shop. The nerve pain in my elbows has been bothersome but I pushed myself to get groceries today and take care of some household matters. My tank was almost empty by the time I made it out to the shop and just holding the chisel was sending the pain up my arm. I got through two mortises. I looked at them awhile, quite pleased and then reluctantly headed back into the house.

We all have a dark side. It's not politically correct to talk about it most of the time. We're supposed to 'deal with it' and 'oh isn't she brave' and 'oh I don't know how you do it." and my favourite "at least it's not cancer". When I'm on the dark side, I just want the world to leave me alone. I want to go out into my shop and measure something, mark it with a pencil and cut it. I want to rearrange my workdesk and sort through my sandpaper. Unfortunately sometimes that's a luxury. I have a family who depends on me to keep the household running.

I know that there are people worse off than I am. That means diddly squat when I'm having a bad day.
Guess what kind of day today has been???
Bah humbug

11:06 - three more minutes of this will be painful for anyone reading it, so what to write for three minutes?
-fluffy puppies
-free chocolate
-free shipping at Lee Valley
-winning the Home Depot survey contest
-getting the sander I want for my birthday
-vodka
-a good laugh on Lumberjocks.

There. Almost a smile. One minute left. If I follow my rules I can't delete this. Unfortunate.
 
#24 ·
You are obviously going through an awful time by most people's standards. The fact that you're able to try to laugh at it tells us you're not done fighting. Most of us would help you with that fight physically if we could. But all we can offer is our mental support. OK, we'll send money for vodka if that helps. :)

My prayers will be with you.
 
#55 ·
Money and happiness

First, the caveat:

I've been spending a lot of time thinking about woodworking, trying to make sense of what it is that has always drawn me to it. I'm notorious for over-thinking, overanalyzing and basically spending too much energy navel-gazing. This blog is intended to get some of it out of my head. I'll be glib, sarcastic and flippant in my other posts. Who knows how this one will turn out. It may be a train wreck, so reader beware! If navel-gazing doesn't hold any appeal or distraction for you, move on. If you're allergic to estrogen, move away quickly.

My own personal rules are to not to spend more than 30 minutes on any one post. I can correct a mistake if I catch it right away, but can't go back. If I post it, I can't edit or delete. I tend to edit things to death and have been known to delete my posts before it's too late. (If you're reading this Monte - you caught me)

If anything resonates with you, feel free to chime in.

10:45 This seems to be the witching hour for me.
I've been thinking about money lately, in particular the expression 'money doesn't buy happiness'. I tend to disagree. Money doesn't guarantee happiness, that, I'll concede, but it sure does help avoid problems and headaches that can keep you from being happy. I don't know if I agree with the statement that money is the root of all evil either. I think greed is the root of that particular brand of evil.

I've found that the people who are the most happy with their financial situations have been worse off at some point.
Let's be clear, there are a lot of miserable rich people. They'd be miserable, rich, poor, alive and dead. Money doesn't fix miserable. There are also a lot of miserable poor people. Some of them are miserable because they always have been and always will be miserable. Some are miserable, because they're exhausted, discouraged, frustrated and beaten down by financial difficulties.

I'm not talking about the happiness that comes from having a good laugh with your family at the supper table, or the happiness that comes from a goofy dog slobbering on your slippers.
Maybe the word I'm looking for is comfort.
This is starting to sound materialistic. I suppose that's true.

Let me put it this way - I have a family. I'd give everything away if that's what I needed to do to keep them safe and healthy. I also don't think they need everything that we can afford to buy.
But I'm very happy that I can buy them the things they need without worrying or fretting.
If my kids need school supplies, we buy them school supplies. If they outgrow their jeans, we can buy them new ones (or new-to-them because I don't consider brand-name and brand-new to be a need).

I've had a job or jobs since before I was old enough to officially have one. I paid my own way through university. Not because I wanted to, but because I had to. I think I was 32 before I paid the last of my loans.
I've never gone hungry, but I know that feeling of wondering if you have enough to pay the rent on time. Or walking, not because you want fresh air (that's what you tell your friends) but you've nothing left for bus fare.
I've lived in a rooming house where the bathroom was down the hall and I was the only female.

Once, when I was in my early 20s, I was in a particularly bad spot financially. It took every ounce of courage I had, but I finally asked an older friend of mine if she would lend me $250.00. I was completely mortified. I used the money to cover my rent and I paid her back within a month by taking extra shifts at work. I've never forgotten that kindness or the shame I felt having to ask.

So does money buy happiness? In some ways it does. But maybe that's only for those who know what it's like to have none, or who don't lose sight of how lucky they are.

Last night I placed an order at Lee Valley for the hardware for my workbench. A need? Definitely not. I've had those items in my online basket for awhile, but felt bad spending that kind of money on drawer slides. Will we have to go without groceries because of it? No. Will I feel happy when that box arrives? You bet your bottom dollar I will. Some of you may be thinking that it's temporary happiness and that it will pass, and maybe I'll be written off as shallow, but I can assure you that I'll feel happiness each and every time I use my someday completed workbench. I'll also experience great happiness building it.

Yes, perhaps the best things in life are free, but they are much easier to enjoy when all your energy isn't spent on making ends meet. There, I think I summed up what I've been trying to say. Money doesn't buy happiness, but it sure prevents a lot of headaches.

Money doesn't fix stupid either, I suppose I should add that in. There's a show on TV about lottery wins changing people's lives. Duh. Stupid people who win a lot of money are just rich and stupid. But take someone with solid morals and values and a good work ethic, and give them a pile of money and I think they would tell you that it helped their happy-meter. I'd like to think so.

I didn't win an actual lottery, but I'm living a lifestyle that 90some % of the world's population could never imagine living. So I guess being born in a country where I could get an education that led to a job that led to a paycheque that led to the house that has food and a fridge is like winning the lottery.
And I'm pretty happy about that.

11:17 There. I like money. I've said it. Who's with me?
 
#72 ·
Label - retentive

First, the caveat:

I've been spending a lot of time thinking about woodworking, trying to make sense of what it is that has always drawn me to it. I'm notorious for over-thinking, overanalyzing and basically spending too much energy navel-gazing. This blog is intended to get some of it out of my head. I'll be glib, sarcastic and flippant in my other posts. Who knows how this one will turn out. It may be a train wreck, so reader beware! If navel-gazing doesn't hold any appeal or distraction for you, move on. If you're allergic to estrogen, move away quickly.

My own personal rules are to not to spend more than 30 minutes on any one post. I can correct a mistake if I catch it right away, but can't go back. If I post it, I can't edit or delete. I tend to edit things to death and have been known to delete my posts before it's too late. (If you're reading this Monte - you caught me)

If anything resonates with you, feel free to chime in.

931pm A bit earlier than my usual ramblings. The kids are asleep, and my husband is watching sports with a large glass of beer. I should be good for 30 minutes.

I was on LJ today looking at shop photos. I went back and read some threads about tool organization and drooled over some pictures. I love things to be organized. I love lists, and knowing where things are, being punctual and I do have a fondness for labels. I guess that makes me label-retentive. That penchant isn't obvious if you look at my shop photos, but life happens, and I do realize that not everyone shares my, ummm, passion? problem?

I'm stuck and I'm only 4 minutes in. Why was I writing about labels again?

Ah yes, the word label was on my mind today because it occurred to me that labels are both a blessing and a curse.
It used to be that you could label someone and it wouldn't cause social outcry. "Do you know Bill, the tall black guy? Or Rose, the large lady." Labels change over the years. Now we're stuck in a society where we sometimes mumble and stutter our way through social situations. We've lost the comfort of our known labels. When someone introduces me to their 'partner', I no longer can delve into my mental filing cabinet and pull out an image or description. Maybe I need re-usable labels?

The media made labelling equivalent to evil-doing when it was used by police for 'profiling'. Gee, if I got bit by a poodle 6 times in a row, I'd probably flinch when I saw a poodle. We all profile. It's just not polite to talk about it. Show me three teenagers with their pants half way to their knees, huddled together on a street corner, and I'd probably choose to walk on the other side of the street. Yes, they could be exchanging prayer cards, or perhaps comparing SAT scores but my mental label maker prints out something altogether different.

When I used to travel a lot for work, I'd know how organized an office was or wasn't as soon as I saw the labels, or lack thereof.
Need batteries? Those would be in the cupboard labelled 'batteries and chargers' Need pens? In the cupboard labelled 'office supplies'. Far better than opening sixteen cupboards to find what you're looking for. Where is Betty's desk? Hers would be the one with the name plate that says Betty Lastname. See how great labels can be?

When talking to my 13 year old daughter one day, I told her that I still remembered which girls had certain labels when I was her age. (You know the ones I'm talking about, admit it.) The long lecture ended with something about her never dating until she's 28.

Back to woodworking. I'm still a newby to the craft/skill/obsession/hobby so I really don't know how much or little the labels have changed. I presume if someone is writing about a table saw, that the image I have is pretty accurate. Sandpaper is not open to much interpretation. Sure there are a plethora (nerd word)of types, but the function and the name are the same. There's a comfort in labels that we all understand. Of course we could talk about name brands as labels, but I can never remember how to spell Lie Nielson. Or is it Neilson. Whichever, I don't own any, so it's a moot point. I'm pretty sure that sawdust in Korea is much like sawdust in Eastern Canada or Australia. If I mention that the shelves are made of wood, we seem to all agree here that it is material from a tree.

My dream shop someday will have drawers and cupboard with no labels on the outside. That's because when you open each drawer or cupboard, there will be smaller bins or compartments with clearly legible labels. Andy, one of my LJ buddies, uses masking tape and a sharpie. It works for him, but I still think he needs a label maker for Christmas. (And he RIPS the tape too, gasp!)

10:13, and I may have officially stalled. Because writers don't actually 'write' much any more, am I suffering from "typer's block"? Or is it "keyboarding cramp"?

I have not been in my shop much at all in the past few weeks, and I'm itching to get back to building my workbench. Of course, there are some jigs in the queue for me to build, and you can be dang straight that they'll be labelled in someway so that years from now, when I pick up the piece of MDF with graduated holes and a fence, I'll know what the heck it was for.

When my kids each started taking the school bus, they took one bus in the morning and a different one in afternoon. I wondered how those poor kindergarden teacher could get them all to the right busses. My solution was to put a transparent luggage tag on their bookbags. One side was labelled with the morning bus info, the other side was a different colour and was labelled with the afternoon bus info and stop address. It worked like a charm.

Oh yeah, and for the record, it can be spelled 'labeled' or 'labelled'. (Don't mess with a label-makin' mama on the edge.)

Phew. That was a hard fought 30 minutes.

Don't let the bedbugs bite.

S.
 
#73 ·
the only demon we own, are that which fall from our own tongues where "delete" and "edit" have since expired.

a day will come where labels mean little unless it brings a smile to face, a breath of fresh air to a family, a feeling of success brought forth by tears from a previous failure.

: )

nice read kid
 
#92 ·
Fear and pride in the workshop

First, the caveat:

I've been spending a lot of time thinking about woodworking, trying to make sense of what it is that has always drawn me to it. I'm notorious for over-thinking, overanalyzing and basically spending too much energy navel-gazing. This blog is intended to get some of it out of my head. I'll be glib, sarcastic and flippant in my other posts. Who knows how this one will turn out. It may be a train wreck, so reader beware! If navel-gazing doesn't hold any appeal or distraction for you, move on. If you're allergic to estrogen, move away quickly.

My own personal rules are to not to spend more than 30 minutes on any one post. I can correct a mistake if I catch it right away, but can't go back. If I post it, I can't edit or delete. I tend to edit things to death and have been known to delete my posts before it's too late.

If anything resonates with you, feel free to chime in.

9:10 - I think this is my first morning blog entry

Yesterday, I jointed and planed 12 boards of rough maple for my workbench top. I'm respectful of the danger any power tool presents, but I'm quite comfortable using both my planer and jointer. The boards were heavy, and as I started to tire, i reminded myself to watch my footing around the sawdust and the cord, and made certain that my hands were nowhere near the infeed of the planer or the blades of the jointer. I do wear gloves (no lectures please) They are very snug with a rubberized coating and in some ways they make me feel safer because I've dropped pieces of wood while in the process of getting a nasty splinter. Some of the boards were quite heavy and wide, and the gloves allow me to handle them better.

Each time I took a break, both tools were unplugged.

So my next step is ripping the boards. This is where my fear and pride go to battle. Last night I posted a forum question about ripping the maple, and had some wonderful advice. I was just about ready to head to HD this morning to pick up a different blade for my TS when another thought popped into my head, "crap, if I buy a thin kerf blade, will it be compatible with my splitter?" I don't think it will. I've had the splitter and pawls on my TS, and off, and then on again. The splitter/kerf issue explains why I struggled the last time I used the TS. Never dawned on my until just now. I've looked into getting an aftermarket riving knife for my TS, but then I'm afraid that if I'm using something that wasn't intended for my particular saw, will I be putting myself in unnecessary danger?
I have read everything I could about table saw safety and I have actually practiced hitting the off switch with my knee, but the thing still scares the fluff out of me.

The logical thing to do would be go out and check the danged manual for my Bosch TS. Will get to it.

If I use the TS, I should use feather boards. I've never used one and don't even own one. (Add to the list for HD)
A year ago, it wouldn't have bothered me to admit that, but somewhere along the way I've developed some type of newbie pride where I think I should know about feather boards.

Or I could use my bandsaw. But then i'd need outfeed support for sure, and the last time I used the bandsaw, I wasn't happy with the results, so something needs adjusting. I've read my Bandsaw book numerous times and have more info on blades than I may ever need (no - I don't have a woodsclier yet)

I think I"m seeing a trend here in my ramblings. Back when I knew nothing, every new thing was great. Now that I know a bit, I'm feeling less confident.

I have a neighbour who has a beautiful basement workshop and he builds incredible furniture. He has offered to help if I ever needed it, but here's the insane part. i'm proud of the work I've done so far, but I'm afraid to ask for his help. Why?? I'm a reasonably sound-minded adult, usually quite capable of handling differing opinions and sorting through BS. I know for certain that this guy would never look down his nose at me or make me feel stupid, so why the fear? What's the worst that can happen? I suppose the worst that could happen is that he'll point out that I've been doing everything bass-ackward and I'll feel like a dufus. Or he may gasp at the safety risks I've been unknowingly taking. I suppose he could unknowingly burst my bubble in which I think I'm making progress.

So, what's a semi-neurotic woodworker to do? Nothing, of course. Except search for the closest SawStop dealer, and spend an hour looking at accessories, reading reviews and thinking about the fact that I have free shipping for a month on Amazon, despite not being able to afford a new saw in the first place. And looking up after-market riving knives and dreaming about having a shop wired for 220. I know i can't buy my way out of my fears, but it's fun trying.

Essentially, I've frittered the last 2 hours away because of a mix of fear and pride. To make matters worse, I was reading about my TS and landed on some posts on another WW site where they seem to enjoy looking down their noses at plebes like me.

If I could spend as much time in the shop as I do thinking about the shop, I'd have built an ark by now. I even ruined a good night sleep by thinking about how I would get the job done with the maple.

By reading other posts and blogs, I don't think I'm the only one prone to attacks of shop paralysis.
All the info I need is out there. I've had great advice and am reasonably informed.
I just have to get out of my own way, and get it done.
Or call my neighbour.
Or maybe I should really organize the Tupperware cupboard first.

That was a quick 30 minutes. Do I actually have to do something now? Maybe more coffee is the answer.

S
 
#93 ·
Sandra,

Sorry if I annoy you, but don't wear gloves when using powertools. Splinters are part of the woodworker's life. I've been pulling, cutting, and digging them out for 40 years. Better a painful splinter than a lost finger.

As for you table saw, don't fear it, respect it as you would a gun. You can buy a hard maple countertop for less than the price of the wood to make it if you can find a counter top wholesaler. I made my work bench when I was 20. Wish I had known that at the time. You could save your maple for something else.

Like you I tend to think too much about things before doing them. Just started a table out of wood I bought 25 years ago.

Good luck !
 
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