Extremely Average

Ecocandle said:

New Year...New Hobby

I have been known to take up a hobby or 37. At 42, on the cusp of 43, and well into the 'balding' years, I have decided that, in lieu of a midlife crisis, I would take up woodworking. Don't get me wrong, a new car and a 27 year old with huge, firm, hands would be wonderful; But I can't afford the 27 year old, and I am not into cars that much.

In the summer of 2009, I went to an arts festival in Des Moines. The gentleman, who won best of show, did so with some amazing etched clay bowls. I am not sure why those clay pots inspired me to take up wood working, or if they were the only inspiration, but shortly thereafter I found myself living in the thriving metropolis of Martelle Iowa. I had my first ever basement.

Without a lot of money to buy all that one needs to build furniture, I started with magazines. The first one was called, "Start Woodworking", from the editors of Fine WoodWorking. I read tips on tools, ideas for projects, stories about great woodworkers, and I began to formulate a plan. I would start with a workbench, the workbench on page 24. The editors of the magazine did a good job of designing a project with the beginner in mind. They even provided a DVD with instructions that were really helpful.

The bench took several months to complete, though the plans were designed so that one could complete it is a weekend. I would guess that I spent 5 hours of thinking about building the bench, for every hour of actual working on it. I thought about what I needed to complete each step, but I was always only focused on the next step. The first step was to buy the 2×4s, 4×4s, 3/8" threaded rod, and a miter saw. Not an electric miter saw, a cheap manual one. I could afford it, it would cut, and I didn't at all care about how long it would take to make each cut. I also discovered in the garage and old hack saw that I could use for cutting the threaded rod.

With the wood cut, I decided I wanted to sand my lumber. The next purchase was a small Black and Decker 'Mouse' sander, some 80, 120, 180 grit sandpaper, and a cool looking level that I didn't need but it was shiny and I was powerless to NOT buy it. The next few weeks found me sanding each piece a bit each day. Barely into my first project I was already getting addicted to the process. The feeling of the construction grade lumber in my hand, after it had been sanded, gave me the slightest glimpse into the beauty of working with wood. I thought about how it must be to run my fingers across a piece of glass smooth mahogany or birds eye maple.

The plans required that I route a 3/8 inch groove into the stretchers. Before I read this magazine I didn't even know what a router or a stretcher was. Each new term learned, each skill set explored, opened up the possibilities that developing woodworking skills offers. And each discovery brought the reality home that care needs to be taken to master each aspect of woodworking. So before I could move on to routing I needed to do a bit of research. This is how one turns a 2 day project into a 2 month quest.

I read reviews and comments. There are many good routers to choose from and I decided to go with the Bosch 2.25 hp router with both the plunge base and the fixed base. I bought 3 bits. A 2" Spiral Downcut CL 2BB and a straight 3/8" by Amana Tools, and a 3/8" Up Spiral bit by Freud. I have come to the conclusion that Freud and Amana Tools are the two best out there. Admittedly Amana makes 2 levels of router bits, and I can't speak to their low end line, but the high end bits have been a joy.

With the router in hand, I had all the tools required to build my workbench. Each step was approached with a sense of confusion and fear. The first time I used the router I was filled with trepidation and pizza, as it was after dinner when I gave it a try. I spent close to 40 minutes setting up a guide for my router. Pieces of 2×4 clamped with 2 24" and 2 36" Jet clamps on my make shift workbench, allowed me to position the router to route. I had read that it is best to take several small passes for safety. Since I was already a bit scared that the router would spin wildly out of control and drive itself into my spleen, leaving me bleeding and generally disappointed, I decided that small passes were a good idea.

It worked as advertised. My first 2 passes made a wonderful 3/8" grove in my wood. I was filled with pride and sure that I was well on my way to being one of the greatest woodworkers of the last 700 years. My second board didn't go as well. I had tightened the collet on the router, though apparently not enough and it had slid up slightly. This had produced a slight up ramp for the groove. My ego needed this set back and I retightened it and decided that I was the greatest woodworker in my basement at that moment. This was good enough for me.

The rest of the project required gluing 2 pieces of ¾ " ODF together to form the top, drilling some holes in the 4×4 legs, and attaching the 9" Jet vice. The only difficult part was installing the vice as it didn't come with instructions, but my own insecurity about getting it right, made me take it at a glacial pace. When I flipped the bench back over and put a piece of wood in the vice, I almost wept with joy.

At the end of the quest I learned several things. 1) When marking wood to be cut or drilled, avoid doing it while watching college football. My bench still bears the scars of several errant holes. 2) Drilling holes with a hand drill, so that they are straight, requires a bit of practice. 3) High quality drill bits are much easier to use than really old, worn out, dull, bits. This likely applies to all tools, the better the quality, the better the results. 4) Fostner bits are cool. 5) I love my workbench, with its shiny red Jet 9" vice. 6) The journey before me is perhaps the most exciting one I have undertaken in my lifetime.

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Ecocandle said:

Reflections of a Mortise



Stepping through the beveled corner, art deco inlay, looking glass, into the world of woodworking is an experience that is humbling to say the least. On another woodworking site, a blogger posed the question, are 'Dovetails' overrated? The article was well written, the comments were astounding. The debate between the pro-tail vs. the pro-choice factions was more contentious than an abortion debate three days before a presidential election.

Wonderland indeed! The one point that I took away from the debate was that choosing to learn to cut dovetails by hand required a lot of practice and patience. As someone who revels in his obsessive compulsive side, this epiphany appealed to me more than pizza and beer on a Saturday night. Admittedly I am not a huge fan of beer, but I LOVE pizza; And I didn't want say 'Pizza and Diet Dew', lest any readers think I am a big sissy.

As I cracked a diet dew, I decided that I would begin my study by buying a chisel. My general rule is to always buy the best I can find. My knowledge of chisels was limited to knowing how to spell chisel, and I only recently learned that. The internet pointed me towards Lie-Nielson. Several other articles taught me that socket chisels are nice because the handles are less prone to splitting. Apparently the steel should be around 60 - 62 something, so it is not too soft and not too hard. This sounded like a fairy tale about 3 bears and a porridge stealing juvenile delinquent. But who am I to question the wisdom of those who come before me?! Lie-Nielson chisels are of this design. I felt smarter just for knowing that. I decided that I wanted a set of bench chisels, a fish tail, skew chisel and possibly a 3/8 mortise chisel. They only cost $555.00.

With my brand new 3/8" Irwin chisel (around $10.00) in hand, I took the old mallet I had found in the garage, and tapped it gently into my practice wood. The Lie Nielson will have to come at a later date. The practice wood was a lovely little piece of hard maple; she had a nice figure and was a bit shy. I could tell it was her first time too. As I tapped that wood with my tool I felt nervous. Was I doing it right? Was I hurting my lovely piece of wood? Was it good for her?



An hour later I had finished. I had drilled and chiseled my way to my first mortise. I was sweating but filled with joy. Oh the euphoria. So this is what all the fuss is about! I had chiseled out a 2 and ¼ inch by 3/8" mortise and was now ready to think about moving onto the tenon. Of course, this would have to wait for another day, as I wasn't ready for another go. I just wanted to bask in the glow of my first mortise.
I learned several interesting things about chisels. They are able to remove much thinner and cleaner shavings of wood than I would have imagined. I had assumed that they would take large chunks of wood with each hit. As I pared down the sides and brought the corners to 90 degrees(ish), the need for mastering hand tools became clearer than a D flawless diamond and quite possibly more valuable. I know now that if I can learn to use these wonderful tools, if I can make them do my bidding, then I just may be able to create a masterpiece or at the very least, a nice cutting board.



It is ironic that, two days before, I had been thinking how I might use my plunge router to cut the mortises I would need for the Krenov saw horses I was attempting. I still believe that it will be equally important to be able to cut them with power tools, and I will likely cut far more using a router than I will a chisel, in my lifetime. But I doubt that I will feel the same exhilaration.

So I discovered the joy of hand tools. I have since cut 7 mortises (4 without a drill) and 7 corresponding tenons by hand. The last 2 mortises (no drill) took less than 26 minutes each, which was a vast improvement over 1 hour. As I continued to meander through the wonderland, I happened upon a rabbit that said, "You should probably learn how to sharpen your chisel" and he winked. The wink made it seem dirty somehow. As I thought about the rabbit, I realized that this is why this journey is such a joy. Each day brings a new challenge. Each challenge opens a door. Each door leads to a hallway with more doors. I doubt I will ever find my way back to the mirror.

(Editor's Note: Ok, I don't actually have an editor, but I like the sound of it. I did want to say that I appreciate all the encouraging comments from the 1st post I threw up yesterday. As of the writing of this post there were 321 people who had read my previous post, and 3.4% of you chose to leave a comment. To the 96.4% who didn't comment, I can only assume that your mother told you, "If you don't have anything nice to say, say nothing at all." To those non-posters, please feel free to mock my spelling, grammar or content…But NOT my hat…never my hat!)

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Ecocandle said:

A Tenuous Grasp



"Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers."
-Alfred Lord Tennyson

As you may know, I have mortised. Can mortise be used as a verb? Obviously it can, though I am sure my 7th grade English teacher is rolling over in her grave. Actually, I don't know if she is dead, probably just wishful thinking on my part. I digress.

What is a mortise without a tenon? It is sad. It is lonely. It is unfulfilled. It is ying without yang, peanut butter without jelly, Simon without Garfield. Ok that last one wasn't a good example, as Paul Simon has done pretty well solo. Apparently I am still digressing.

After my 3 practice mortises and 4 real mortises, I realized it was time to create a verb out of tenon. I have read all sorts of interesting articles giving techniques and jigs one can use to cut tenons on the router table or table saw. I have neither yet. In a fit of impulse buying I had purchased a lovely coping saw a few weeks earlier. A Robert Larson saw made in Germany. I reasoned that with all the Germans have had to cope with in the last 100 years; they probably know a thing or two about this type of saw.

I find my coping saw to be quite wonderful. It cuts nicely, but alas it is not the tool for tenoning. I know this now. I am still very pleased to have it in my tool collection. I decided to try my Marples Japanese hand saw. I had not really used it in earnest before. It has two distinct types of teeth on it. This seemed to me to be significant and I reasoned that I should find out what each set of teeth was designed to do.

I wondered over to finewoodworking.com, where I gladly pay $4.95 per month to be a member. I figured I could find something about Japanese hand saws, and while I was looking I saw an article, "Guide for Cambering a Jack Plane Blade". I don't know what 'Cambering' is. I am equally uniformed as to what a 'Jack Plane' does. I assume it flattens large blocks of cheese. Not wanting to get distracted I passed on this article.

I found a wonderful article which had a diagram, which was vastly superior to the one I have here. Now I just needed to find a definition of 'rip' and 'crosscut', and I would be set.



I meticulously marked the board, took my saw to the basement, and clamped my bit 'o' hard maple into the vice. I decided I would cut off the short blocks on the end of the tenon first. This didn't take long at all. I then sawed the long bits off. I now had a tenon with four shoulders that were grotesquely uneven. Not to worry. I grabbed my trusty Black and Decker mouse sander and went to work. This was an abysmal failure. I now had shoulders that were smooth but not flat. Wisdom gained.

Never being one to get too stressed about failure, I decided I would take my mallet and see about gently inserting the tenon into the mortise. By gently I mean hammering it like Thor. This worked nicely, and though there was only one side of the combination that looked reasonable, it was so solid I couldn't pull it apart.

I have since learned that that first mortise tenon combo was too tight. It seems that when glue is applied the tenon will swell a bit. Though I didn't know that the joint was too tight at the time, I did know that it looked dreadful. So I brutally unjoined my joint and set the two pieces on the table. It was apparent that my grasp of tenon cutting was tenuous at best. I decided to sleep on it.

The next day I thought about it some more. It would be best to approach the cut differently. I would draw a box around the piece of wood, where the shoulders are supposed to be, and cut that first. It worked slightly better than my first method. Then as I was comparing the two, I had an 'ah ha' moment. I bet that the Master Woodworkers, clean up their tenons with their chisels!

With the speed of an Indy car driver, I grabbed my chisel and sheared off a bit of the shoulder. This was fun, and appeared to be helping. I spent a good deal of time chiseling off tiny bits here and there, occasionally setting my chisel on the shoulder and using it to see how close I was to flat, and then I learned a valuable lesson. If you are chiseling across a shoulder and coming up on the end of the board, it is best to stop and chisel back into the board. I learned this when I shaved the slightest bit off the shoulder and took a huge chunk out of the side.



Before I tackled the last two I looked up the best way to start a cut with a Japanese handsaw. I also drew a secondary box 1/32 below the 1st one. This made thing easier. I cut to the 1st box and chiseled to the 2nd one. It was also brought to my attention that one should hold the saw near the end of the handle, not apply too much downward pressure, and to just let the saw cut. Apparently these types of saws like to cut in straight lines. I am not sure that my saw is aware of this, but it does a pretty good job. A good enough job that I am planning on upgrading to a better saw. Any ideas or suggestions from the peanut gallery would be greatly appreciated. In fact, here are three questions I would love to have answered.

1. What is the best Japanese handsaw for cutting tenons or dovetails?
2. How do you get clean and flat shoulders on your tenons? (if you cut them by hand)
3. What is your favorite land mammal?

With my newly acquired knowledge I was able to improve the tenons marginally. I would give my tenons a c+, but only because the class is graded on the curve, and I intentionally signed up for woodworking for toddlers. Those 3 year olds with their barely developed motor skills, they make me laugh. In all seriousness though, I would imagine that just like in all other aspects of woodworking, practice goes a long ways towards perfection. So I am going to keep at it.

"The happiness of a man in this life does not consist in the absence but in the mastery of his passions."
-Alfred Lord Tennyson

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Ecocandle said:

To and Fro



It is all back and forth, to and fro, over and over again, until my fingers are sore and angry. Actually my fingers are not only angry, they are bitter and told me in no uncertain terms, "Listen bub, we know you are excited about your new little sharpening station, but either we get a break, or we will wrap ourselves around your neck." I am not brave, so I relented and decided to take a break from sharpening. I checked and my fingers agreed that they would be more than willing to either "Do some walking through the yellow pages, especially if it is the Chinese food section, or be allowed to type up today's blog." It was made clear that the latter option would only be accepted if I let them state their case.



My belief that learning to use hand tool and to take care of them, will serve me well throughout my woodworking life, is not one shared by my fingers. It seems that practicing this skill daily has been met with suspicion by the digits. They don't understand why I would work so hard to sharpen a small cheap chisel that I may never need. I tried to explain that the skill requires that I do it over and over. The case was made that it is better to get good on old chisels than to do a crappy job on new expensive chisels. This argument fell on deaf knuckles.



When I sensed that my fingers were tired of listening and I suspected they were about to turn on me, I gave up. I stand by my position though. Tonight I have spent close to 2 hours on one chisel. The first 70 minutes, minus the time it took to microwave some Tai Pei noodles and wolf them down, were spent on the 1000 grit. I set up my sharpening guide and started. Unlike my two chisels which I bought, the sharpening process started a new angle on the tip of the chisel. The aged worn chisel had likely never been sharpened and the angle was in need of fixing. Having flattened the back side, I figured I was close to done. I was grossly mistaken. The first time I flipped it over I saw that the heal was getting the new edge. It was obvious that I would have to keep sharpening until I had the entire front of the chisel ground down to the correct angle.



The monks, who devote their lives to the sharpening of chisels, would have likely ground the edge down. I have 3 grinders in the garage. They are old, I have never used them, and they look like a heart attack causing shock, just waiting to happen. So I give them a wide berth. Again, the point of sharpening this sad old chisel at all is for the practice. So I should stop complaining. The old adage applies, "be careful what you wish for."



I may have sore angry fingers, but I am starting to get comfortable with the rhythm of the chisel and the wet stone. Is it perfectly sharpened? No, but tomorrow I will work on it some more. And then the day after too, and then perhaps a bit on Sunday, and one day, I will be able to put an edge on a chisel that I can be proud of.

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Ecocandle said:

Horrible Dovetail Blunder



The population of Martelle Iowa is in the neighborhood of 350, so one could use the phrase thriving metropolis comfortably. We do not have door to door USPS delivery, which is a little bit of a bummer, but it does have a tremendous upside. The excitement I get when I hop in the care and drive all the way across town to check my post office box. It is almost like Festivus all year round, without the pole or 'airing of grievances'. Actually I don't care for mail, but last Thursday I made several online purchases. En route to zip code 52305 was a brand new Japanese hand saw, which was rated 'Best Overall' by Fine Woodworking. I also ordered, from another site, 8 DVDs and 2 books.
Since I ordered them both on Thursday of last week, and didn't choose any of the fancy pants options with regard to shipping and handling, I didn't expect them until the middle of the week. As a rule, I am more of a average pantaloon shipping sort of guy. So imagine my surprise when there was a long rectangular box waiting for me. After I explained at length, to the Martelle postmaster, what a Japanese hand saw was, and why I am much cooler for owning one, I headed back across town. I drove down the main street, past the Football Stadium, around the Mega Mall, cut across the parking lot to the Subway, and finally after a few more turns, arrived back home. Ok, I may have exaggerated the length of my trip, and some of the sites in Martelle, but you get the point. Though it is a short trip, I was eager to try out my new saw, and what took 4 minutes, seemed like it took well over 5 minutes.



I don't know how to cut a dovetail. I don't know how to mark them. I have picked up a couple of tips, but that is all. Safety is important. I always read the instructions before trying any new tool. This, of course, goes against the 'guy code', but I do it anyway. Luckily for me it is a hand saw, and were there instructions included, they would say, Step 1. Pull, Step 2. Push lightly, Step 3 rinse and repeat. Oh wait, that last one was from my Japanese hair conditioner. I digress.
Without any instructions to impede my progress, I grabbed a pencil, my little angle marker thingy that I bought from an antique shop last weekend. I have no idea what they are called, but I have seen them used in laying out the tails and pins for the aforementioned joinery. I have also read that the real masters don't measure their dovetails, they eyeball it. It is as if the woodworking gods are begging me not to bother with measuring, but are saying instead, "Go forth and run amok with your new saw."



Not wishing to face the wrath of an angry woodworking deity, I quickly marked the tails on a piece of hard maple and clamped it in the vice. I took great care to mark the waste areas with a 'w' so I would not chisel out the wrong bits. I have read that one should cut close to the line and then pare it up the rest of the way, to get a nice fit. One of the problems that 'amok runners' often face is that they blunder. I made a blunder worse than 1. e4 e5 2.Nf3 d6 3. Bc4 Bg4 4.Nc3 a6 5. Nxe5 and black taking the queen on the 5th move. Today I was playing black. I took such care to mark my tails and then I immediately cut on the wrong side of the line. Oh well, that is why I am determined to practice these skills before I try them on something I care about.
I am happy to report that the saw rated 'Best Overall' is a wonderful cutting device. The kerf was thinner than Kate Moss. The saw cut a really straight, albeit poorly place, line. Ok, now it is time to do some more practicing, I think I will work on the Sicilian Dragon and thus avoid the possibility of a blunder on the 5th move.

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Ecocandle said:

It aint my Faulkner



"Sometimes I think it aint none of us pure crazy and aint none of us pure sane until the balance of us talks him that-a-way. It's like it aint so much what a fellow does, but it's the way the majority of folks is looking at him when he does it." -William Faulkner, Novel,1930 'As I Lay Dying'

I enjoyed this novel. I enjoyed it a great deal, especially after I became use to the style, called stream of consciousness, with which Faulkner penned his 'tour de force'. In just 6 weeks, while he was working a power plant, he wrote one of the great novels of the 20th century.

'As I Stood Chiseling', by Louis 'The Ladies Man' Ban, is written in a similar, yet lesser known French literary style, Stream De Merde. The hallmarks of this style involves convoluted and often pointless rambling that have little bearing on the main plot or characters. Some would argue that Ban's chapter on the through mortise is one of the worst 73 pages in literary history, surpassed only by, Henry James Thornton's section about weasels and their dreams in his last book, 'Rodentia Musings' circa 1874. All arguments aside, it is certainly agreed upon by most scholars, that his main character is less interesting than peat moss. The worst point in the Homeresque length diatribe is when he writes, "As I stood chiseling my mind began to wonder, as it often does, to thoughts, not of woodworking, but of other less important things. Would a monkey enjoy cheese? I thought to myself, and if so, would said monkey prefer a finely aged Jarlsberger or sharp cheddar…which reminds me, I haven't sharpened my chisel in some time. I like sharpening my chisel. Why are British comedians able to make everything sound like a double entendre? How do they link any two words together and make them sound dirty, 'How about a tug and a whistle?' seems like something one might hear from their lips. Darn, I took too much from the side." This 'stream' continued on for what seemed like a fortnight.

I would imagine that many of you are thinking the same thing of today's blog and you would be right to do so. I considered writing my musing of minutia and telling you in great length about my through mortise cutting today. Actually, after I typed, 'I cut a couple of through mortises today', I had run out of material. It didn't seem lengthy enough for a blog post, so today I am going to tell you a bit about myself.

To begin with, and in the interest of full disclosure, my blog title is not my own creation. Though I think it is funny and quite clever, the phrase was first uttered in my proximity by Bryce Miller. Bryce is a wordsmith by training and the Executive Sports Editor for the Des Moines Register. If I were to improve my writing by 1000% it would still be only half as good as the pieces he has written. (Bryce = (Brian x 10)/.5)

My friend's fiancé had gotten a new puppy, his name was Roger. Roger was a Treeing Walker ******************** Hound. They have one function in life, from 8 am until 5pm, they bark. Roger barked at leaves, at passers bye, at walnut falling from the trees in the back yard, and often just at the wind. When he was a puppy he looked like a beagle with massive feet. One day Mary was playing with Roger and stood him up and resting his two front legs over her knees. He just stood their content and resting from a long day of disturbing the neighbors. Bryce looked over and Roger and said, "You are Extremely Average." This made me chuckle. And such is the story of how I came to name my blog. It still makes me chuckle.

I have many interests beyond woodworking. I am also an avid photographer. I sell my works through half a dozen stock photo sites. In fact, 3 of the pictures from post #5 have already had sales. I am finding that while I am improving at using hand tools for woodworking, I am also making an equal measure of improvement in lighting still life images. It is also really handy to have all those lights around so that I never have trouble seeing what I am working on.



Another interest is reading. I love books. I like buying them, I like having them neatly displayed on my bookshelves, and most of all I like reading and rereading them. When a novel is so good that it is tough to put down and the mere act of finishing it makes you sad, as there isn't any more, that is quite a good book. I feel that way about, 'To Kill a Mocking Bird', 'The Catcher in the Rye', and 'Snow Crash'. I also felt that way about Vikram Seth's 'A Suitable Boy', and it was 1482 pages of very small type. A good book is a good thing indeed. I am sure someone famous said that, probably with a posh British accent.

So do I have anything substantive to say on the subject of my Woodworking Journey? No. Did I receive the bundle of woodworking DVD's and books I was expecting to find at my local office of post? No. Has this made me more bitter and angry than Rosie O'Donnell? No, that last one was a trick question, and I got it right, as it is not possible, though I am somewhat bitter. I guess I would feel better if I cut some tenons to fit through my through mortises. I think I will grab an apple and head back to the basement for some tenon cutting. Thanks for stopping in and giving me a read. I hope you weren't too disappointed.

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Ecocandle said:

Gnashing Teeth



Today I drove across Martelle, to the office of post, where I again stared into a cubbyhole filled with emptiness. No DVDs and books for me, in the 'Soup Nazi' voice, ran through my head. After coming home, through rush hour traffic, I sat in my comfy green computer chair, defeated. I know from my days of working in the marketing department at GEICO that the travel time for a piece of mail, from anywhere city, in the continental U.S., to the hamlet of someplace, takes no longer than 6 business days. Iowa sits smack dab in the middle of all the anywheres and someplaces in the country, so I figured 3. Today is day 6 and unbeknownst to The Taunton Press; they hang precariously on the precipice of a cliff, overlooking a valley filled with a pack of angry blog.

The thing about a pack of wild blog, with their teeth gnashing while they run amok, is that they can't be controlled. An angry blog will, given a chance, eat it weight in bad publicity within minutes. And don't even get me started about their breeding. They make rabbits look like vestal virgins. If you find an angry blog, after a meal of 1000 words of vitriol and spite, it will be very amorous towards others of its ilk. It will seek out other blogs to mate with. Twitter is an incredible breeding ground for these creatures. It seems that everyone in the world is trying to fix these little fuzzy and ravenous creatures up, just to watch them multiply. And don't even try to herd them; they are as likely to be driven in a single direction as a gaggle of cats. (I realize that it is geese that are a gaggle, but I am exercising my legal right to poetic license.)



Now some of you may not have heard of these beasts. Perhaps you know of them by their Latin name, Blogus Rantopotamus? Whether you have heard of them or not, it is wise to know they are out there. To truly understand the Blogus Rantopotamus, one must know of their origin. They are a fairly new breed of animal, though some would call them a plague or a virus. The story of their origins is unclear and you may well find many different version of how they came to be. This is my favorite.



In a warehouse in Poughkeepsie NY, an aging accountant sat at his desk. He had studied cost accounting in school and married his high school sweetheart, who attended Vassar. She left him after three years, for a woman she met at a poetry slam, and since that day, he has been bitter and angry. This is important because on this day, about seven and a half years ago, a new shipping clerk was preparing a box of miniature replica blunder busses for shipping. The accountant screamed, "What are you doing?!" at the young man, a recent college graduate in computer science, who hadn't really bothered to find a real job yet. I was getting this order ready to go out. "When did they order it?", "The order just came in on from the website (www.blunderbusRus.com), if I hurry I can get it out tonight." The accountant screamed louder, "Did they pay for express shipping and handling?!", "No, but I am not sending it express, I am sending it through the regular mail." The clerk said sheepishly. "Where do they live?!", the accountant bellowed, though he knew the answer. "They live in New Jersey. If it goes out tonight, they will get it tomorrow or the next day." He responded, trying to understand why this was a big deal. "We don't want the customer to get them quickly, because if we do that, then nobody will pay for express shipping and handling! Are you an idiot?" said the accountant.



The clerk had studied TOC (Theory of Constraints) in college and knew that the totally variable costs were fixed and that his reasoning was wrong. He knew that in the long run a happy customer was better than earning an extra 2 dollars by making them think they needed express. But he also knew that if he refused to do as the accountant said, he might have to start looking for a real job, and he didn't want to do that before the summer was over. So he went home and later that night, in his mother's basement, next to the washer and dryer, he forwent World of War Craft and anonymously unleashed the first beast on the world. Unfortunately for the accountant, the blog reproduced through mitosis and the hungry pack of blogs eventually found him and ate his face off.

Tune in tomorrow when the blog either be an angry rant at Taunton Press or a lengthy description of my own foibles…and now back to your regularly scheduled programming…
…so in conclusion, I would like to say, "I love woodworking."

[Editors Note: An angry Blogus Rantopotamus has yet to be photographed. So we went with flowers.]

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Ecocandle said:

My Days as a Ninja



It seemed like a long time ago. The year was 637 AD, and I was studying under the master Ninja and Carpenter, Sado Asuka. His philosophy was, 'To master the blade of the Ninja, one must master the tools of the Carpenter'. He said this often. We built a Shinto shrine in his back yard and a rumpus room, for his kids. It was strange that he spoke English, but I digress. One day I was using the hand tools, as I was told, practicing my Miyajim-tsugi, or as the master said, in his best East Anglia accent, 'halved oblique scarf joint', when an elder from the village told me that I was needed, to help build a defensive wall, to protect the village from a pending attack.

I followed him to the area where the wall had collapsed. Holding true to the teachings of Master Asuka, I used only my hand tools to meticulously cut and join the logs, even though there was a perfectly good Bosch circular saw a mere 5 meters away. Though I knew the circular saw would speed up the construction considerably, I held true to my teachings.

Before I had finished the wall, a horde of marauders attacked. Three people died, a dozen people, including myself were injured, and hundreds had their feelings hurt. My injuries were severe and I was to be carted, by ox, to another village, where I could receive better treatment for my wounds. It is unfortunate that on the trip, the ox got spooked and fell off the path, into the ironically named, Ox Death Crevasse, pulling me with him. Neither I nor the ox survived.

Many centuries later, when I was reincarnated, as a middle aged woodworker with delusions of blogger, I would remember the error of my ways. It is important to master my hand tools, but it is equally important to get into the habit of finishing projects in a reasonable amount of time.



With the memory of my ill fated wall project and the succeeding oxen cart death ride on my mind, I thought about how I might complete the feet on my Krenov saw horses. I also realized that it had been seven days since I had purchased a tool. Seven! In some parts of the country that is almost a week!
Though I had considered ordering some chisels, I made the decision to buy a jigsaw instead. Off to Acme tools I went. They had many jigsaws and I had looked at them all before. I have researched jigsaws and already knew that I wanted the Festool PSB 300 EQ-Plus. They have this tool and I asked the sales person about it. He pointed out several features that I wasn't aware of and the deal was done. I bought it. This is not the story of my new jigsaw, but the story of its packaging.



He went to the back and got my jigsaw. It comes in a hard plastic case. The handle is in the middle of the lid. It looks strange, but it is actually very comfortable to carry. The latches are heavy duty and fasten securely. The case is molded in such a way that it is stackable. Apparently they have designed the outside of their tool cases to fit together with one another. So if I later purchase their random orbital sander, and I likely will, the case will stack neatly on top of the jigsaw. There are also slide up latches that allows one to connect the cases together, so they don't fall off, if you are pulling them on a cart. Should I also decide to buy one of their uber cool dust collectors, the top of the dust collector is designed for the tools to sit on it, and because it has wheels, you can cart your tools around together.



I love brilliant packaging. I haven't been this excited about the packaging of a product, since I worked at GEICO, "Where a 15 minutes could save you 15% on your auto insurance.", and a friend showed me the new iPod. He called it a Nano. I had to have one. This was my first iPod. I still have the iPod and the packaging. I believe that the packaging is a good indicator of the quality inside. I know, you can't always judge a book by its cover, but if a company puts so much time, thought and engineering into the case, it is reasonable that they probably spent some time building a pretty good tool too.

So I will finish up my saw horse feet with my jigsaw. The practicing of cutting with my Japanese hand saw will continue. And I will mourn the loss of the villagers and the ox that perished because of my unwillingness to use the right tool for the right job.

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Ecocandle said:

Angry Beaver



Last evening, as if some mysterious and mischievous deity were looking in on me and saw how giddy I was over my new Festool PSB 300EQ, the power went out. Not just a little outage, one where the deity could chuckle for a few minutes as I sit in the dark with my unusable power tool, but a major 'the house gets really cold' outage. I went to bed. It was warm. I thought about using my new saw.

At 7:37 am the electricity flowed into the house, bringing with it heat, computing power, and more importantly a working microwave. Much as I love woodworking, it pales in comparison to how much I love breakfast. I made a turkey bacon, egg and cheese sandwich. Why turkey bacon you ask? Well it is certainly less tasty than regular bacon, but it is healthier, and choosing it over the good stuff, makes my mom happy. Hi Mom (She reads my blog). I would worry about reading the instructions for the PSB 300EQ after work.

If I were still in my youth, I would just fire it up, but I am old and I feel much less invincible. I read the instructions, especially the parts on safety, sometimes twice. I usually learn something. The safety section told me how it is important to have the correct cross section on the extension cord. They also explained the speed to use for different types of materials. The third thing I learned, and it is likely something that every reader, except my mom, already knew. With the right blade, and the speed set between 2 and 4, my FSB 300EQ can cut steel up to 10 mm thick. Steel cutting is very cool. The 3/8 threaded rod, which I used in my workbench and cut by hand with a hack saw, would have quaked in the presence of my jigsaw/saber saw (note: There seems to be some disagreement as to what I should be calling the PSB 300EQ, I call her Marey. Marey is a dentist and has great teeth. It was funny to me.)

So I grabbed Marey by the hand(le) and we sauntered downstairs to the waiting hard maple. Marking the three remaining feet was easy, as I used the first one as a guide. I cleared off the workbench, so that my workspace was clutter free, as per the instructions. Then it was show time. I pressed Marey's trigger, engaged the trigger lock, and she began to hum. I gently eased Marey into the hard maple and she started cutting like an angry beaver on a damn mission. I have only used a jigsaw/sabre saw once, and it was a really old model with a dull blade. Marey is shiny and new and her teeth are razor sharp. The difference was noticeable.



My first foot came out looking fair. I decided to make the small and much easier angled cuts with my Japanese hand saws, as I do like getting the practice, and use Marey for the rip cut. This worked really well. With each cut I became less and less intimidated by Marey and her power. The final foot went the smoothest as I applied a little bit of downward pressure and she handled beautifully. Like all of the tools that preceded the Festool PSB 300EQ named Marey, it takes practice to become good.



With the cutting done, I unplugged Marey, and she sat on the bench top. It was obvious that we were both very pleased with ourselves. I told her I needed to photograph her and the cuts she had made, for the blog. She said it was ok, but afterwards she was going shoe shopping.
!
To assess the results, I would say I am delighted. The cuts, including the ones on the edge, will need to be cleaned up with a chisel, which I am more than comfortable doing. Someday I will have a table saw, which will be more accurate than a hand tool, but I am fine with the extra bit of work right now. In the close up photo, the top foot is the one that I have already cleaned. I am so glad I have taken the time to learn how to use my chisels, because had I started by cutting with Marey, I would have been clueless how to get the feet to the exact way I want them. This would have caused all sorts of frustration and likely diminished the fun I am having with woodworking. This experience with Marey has also reinforced my belief that high quality tools are worth the money.

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Ecocandle said:

Heroes



In 1972 October 20, Pete Rose hit a leadoff home run, and then hit a single in the ninth inning. This was game 5 of the World Series, and the Cincinnati Reds had just staved off elimination, thanks to my child hood hero's efforts. The Reds would win game 6 to send it to a decisive game 7 in Riverfront stadium. I was 5 years old. On October 22, in front of 56,040 fans, and at least one little boy at home watching on TV, the Oakland A's captured their first World Series since 1930, beating my beloved Red 3 - 2. I cried.

It has been a long time since I thought about Pete Rose. I loved playing baseball growing up. Cheering for the Reds during the 70's turned out to be a pretty good choice. 'The Big Red Machine' won the world series in 75' & 76'. My hero was still Pete Rose because of how he played the game. His nickname was 'Charlie Hustle'. He loved the game. He played it hard. His later troubles broke my heart. In the course of my life there have only been a few who have risen to the level of hero in my mind.

Last night, I looked over the stack of woodworking DVDs which I had received, from The Taunton Press, earlier in the week. Sam Maloof, run time 55 minutes, originally published in 1989, was the one I chose. I popped it into the computer and was introduced to one of the 'Giants' of American woodworking.

The DVD invites the viewer into his home and his workshop. The cameras followed him around as he narrates his work and life. The beginning shows Maloof picking through piece of walnut, with him explaining how he marks his lumber. We are treated to wonderful detail about his thought process. He is known for his chairs, but we also get a glimpse into some of his other work.

He talks with ease, as if the audience is a neighbor who stopped over for a cup of tea. We get to meet his wife, who is obviously the love of his life. He talks about his 40 years of being a woodworker and how he is entirely self taught. Sam Maloof is modest and endearing. The love of his life's work is obvious. He talks about some of his prototypes, how many of them were sold over the course of his life and how he wished he had been able to keep more of them. We see his templates, and he proudly shows off one that has survived 30 years and is still in use, he even shows how he has written 'original' on it.

The best part of the time spent with Sam Maloof, is watching him at work. I am too new to woodworking, to fully grasp all of the tips and ideas he shares, but it is obvious that I am watching genius. My head swirls with ideas. In just 55 minutes I have had my perceptions about woodworking changed forever.

He talks of people, who present themselves as wood artists, and he says with pride that he is a woodworker; it is a good word, an honest word. Despite his belief that he is NOT an artist, his work can be found in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Renwick Gallery, the Philadelphia Museum of Art and The White House Collection of Arts and Crafts, to name but a few of dozens. He was awarded the MacArthur 'Genius' grant in 1985. I learned the last bits, not from the video, but from http://www.malooffoundation.org/cvitae.cfm and Wikipedia. The more I looked up online, the more I liked him. The video introduces one to the work of a dedicated master craftsman and I think most people will want to learn more when they are done.

Sam Maloof passed away on May 21, 2009. Though he is no longer with us, his work and life still has the power to inspire and to teach. I would recommend this DVD to anyone who asks. As for me, I have added Sam Maloof to my short list of heroes.

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Ecocandle said:

A Viking Tale



It was in the spring of 975 A.D. when Erik the Red's 1st cousin, thrice removed, Sven the Brunette with blond highlights, headed out in his longship for weekend of pillage and camaraderie with his buddies. Sven was a giant of a man, standing 6' 8" tall, with a barrel chest, and a thick beard, also with blonde highlights. His friends were also rather large and one might say malodorous (of course one wouldn't say that until 1840 or later, as the word didn't exist in 975, but I digress). They headed out to sea, towards a little village, which they expected would put up scant resistance to their pillaging, and Sven had heard they had a nice day spa. He figured lads would be sore after a day of pillaging and he really needed a seaweed wrap.

Sven had not done a lot of pillaging in his life, he was more of a home body, but the continued success of his cousin, forced him to, according to his wife, 'get out more'. Apparently the other wives were beginning to talk. So off they went. As he stood at the head of the longboat, looking out over the waves, he thought about the conquests of Eric, and he thought about his other cousin, Bahn the rather grumpy. History has forgotten Bahn, but Sven knew only too well of his tales. He cringed as he remembered the stories of Bahn, with his massive hammer over head, screaming as he ran into the villages, 'Fear my hammer, fear the Wrath of Bahn!'. This cry would cause the men to tremble and the women to swoon. When the tales of Bahn were told back home, the men toasted him, and the women, well, they swooned too, except for Sven's wife. She hit him on the shoulder and gave him a dirty look. That night was a cold and lonely one for Sven.
He spent the next week fashioning a massive hammer from his best wood. He reinforced the handle and polished it to a fine sheen. He then gathered his smelly friends and told them of his plan for fame and riches. The lads were not terribly bright, and they all liked the idea of getting away from the wife and kids for a weekend.

As the little village came into view, his excitement almost overwhelmed him. They had been crossing the sea all day and were eager for battle. Sven had been practicing his war cry in his head. The boat crept ashore, down the coast from the village. They made their way through the woods, over the glen, and soon they saw the village. There were several dozen huts, people milling about, an ox pulling a scratch plough, and children playing near the center of town. It was just as Sven imagined.

He led his band of Viking Warriors down the hill. As they got within ear shot, Sven yelled out his battle cry, wielding his hammer with bravado. The bravado was short lived. The town's people all heard the cry, and a group of women, washing clothes in the stream at the edge of town, defeated Sven, not with weapons, but with their laughter. Not just laughter, but a full on eruption of boisterous chortling, with a fair amount of finger pointing. Several woman, laughed so hard that they slipped and fell into the stream.

Sven's friends, his Viking hoard, stopped soon after hearing the battle cry, and the aforementioned laughter. They just shook their heads, turned around, and headed back to the boat. Sven was crushed. He was confused and didn't understand what had happened. The lads got back in the boat, snickering, and waited for Sven. When he returned and demanded to know why they had stopped, Holgar spoke up, and said, "I've got wood!?...Massive hard wood!?...Really? THAT was your battle cry?...Did you think it through?" The rest of the hoard busted out laughing, and continued through the night as they returned home. It didn't stop until most of them had gone to bed, but quickly started up again, when they told the tales of their great adventure. Sven said, he would never pillage again, and his wife said she loved him regardless, which was all he wanted in the first place.

So with Sven in mind, I declare, "I've got LUMBER, really massive lumber." When I began my journey into woodworking, I imagined creating all sorts of beautiful tables and chairs, with exotic woods, and stunning grain patterns. I don't think I ever spent even a moment, thinking about where one gets beautiful lumber, for I knew that, unlike most things, lumber did grow on trees.

The book 'Selecting and Drying Wood', which is a collection of articles from Fine woodworking magazine, has opened my eyes to the challenges involved in selecting and buying lumber. I have learned that one should be prepared when they head out to buy those bits of trees that will become treasured projects. Roland Johnson's article in the book, suggests that one have a 'kit' for their trips to the lumberyard. He believed in taking a flashlight, gloves, tape measure, moisture meter, clip board with cut list, pencil, and even a hand plane. I wouldn't have thought of any of these things, with the possible exception of a cut list. The book also taught me the value of trying to select pieces of lumber that are from the same tree and gave tips on how one can determine if two boards go together. I had no idea how much the color can vary between different trees of the same species. I didn't know what heartwood was or how one could use defects in a board to match it to another board from the same tree.

I learned that rough cut lumber is cheaper than the kiln dried wood one finds at a lumber yard, and that rough cut wood needs to be air dried for 1 year per inch of thickness, if you don't have a kiln. I don't have a kiln. But most of all, I learned that one should always keep their eyes open for opportunities to get a good deal. It became apparent, after reading this book, that 50% of the skill of the master craftsman is their understanding of, and ability to find, truly special wood.



A few weeks back I made a purchase. I bought some rough cut walnut and cherry from a gentleman who advertised on craigslist. I bought approximately 340 board feet of rough cut lumber. I have been inventorying every piece, and I haven't finished, but when finished, I will have a detailed record of what I have in the stacks. The lumber was cut in June of last year. 80% of it is 1 inch thick and should need another 6 months of drying, while the remaining 20% is 3 - 4 inches thick and obviously won't be ready for several years. The breakdown is 20% Cherry and 80% Walnut.



I don't know if I got a good deal. I paid $400.00 for the lot, or $1.17 per board foot. It feels like a good deal to me, and I will get lots of hours of enjoyment from my lumber. I am learning how to build stacks. I didn't even know what a sticker was, before I needed one. And perhaps the best part, is the joy I feel when I walk downstairs to my basement (where I have the dehumidifier running 24/7), and see the stacks I am building. There is something great about having lots of wood.

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Ecocandle said:

Photographing my Blog pt. 1



If a day goes by without my doing something related to photography, it's as though I've neglected something essential to my existence, as though I had forgotten to wake up.
-Richard Avedon

I didn't know about the work of Richard Avedon before his exhibit at the Corcoran at the end of 2008. As a volunteer docent at the gallery I got to hear a lecture from the curator of his traveling exhibit, and learn about his amazing works. I became a fan. This wasn't the beginning of my love of photography, but it definitely gave me a jolt of energy to continue to practice and work to improve. My weakest area is the use of lighting; in fact, I just had 3 of my images rejected for 'poor or uneven lighting'. I am not kidding, as I was typing that sentence I stopped to check a message from Shutterstock, and sure enough the images I used in the blogs 'The English Plane' and the image of the 'stack' were rejected. I don't sweat those setbacks, because I submit my images to 6 different sites, and it is rare that the inspectors agree, so they will probably get reject by 2 of the 6.

The point is that the subject of proper lighting is somewhat subjective. There are however universal sins. Harsh lighting is always bad. The most common cause of this unfortunate faux pas is the use of an on camera flash. How does one tell if the lighting is harsh? The truth is in the shadows. If one wants to improve their photography, striving to eliminate the hard shadows is a great first step. I am not an expert, as I have said, but I can share the tips I have learned.

In learning how to create 'saleable' images for stock sites, I have read thousands of forum posts, several books, and a few tea leaves, trying to unravel the mysteries. One of the first tips I would give is to take your photos, with the camera on a tripod, and use the timer. The reason for this is that you are able to shoot in situations where the light isn't spectacular. I don't mean to digress again, but I should mention a little bit about light, and the way cameras work.

Assuming you not shooting in manual mode (and if you are good enough to shoot on manual, you don't need to continue reading, so go eat a donut and come back in a paragraph or two), your camera is using the tiny computer inside of it. That computer is taking a reading of the available light and it is deciding how quickly it need to open its shutter to get a picture that you will be proud of. Your camera really wants to do a good job for you. When you and your camera are shooting outdoors, with natural light, the camera has a lot more flexibility with how it is able to take the shot. But when you are indoors, in a workshop for instance, under artificial light, the camera looks out into the room and sees almost total darkness. It decides that in order to get a shot that has enough light it must keeps its shutter open for 2, 3, 5 or more seconds.
Now that may not seem like a long time, when compared to the life of a star, or even the time it takes to learn woodworking, but in the world of photography it is an eternity. To hand hold your camera, it needs to open and close its shutter in 1/60th of 1 second. If it is open for twice as long or 1/30th of a second, the vibration from your pulse will cause there to be camera shake. This will lead to a slightly blurry image, and force your significant other to lie to you about how much he or she likes your picture. This is why we want to use a tripod, we don't need to hold the camera, hence the camera can keep its shutter open until it feels there is enough light to get a clear image. Having the camera lounging on a tripod isn't enough to eliminate camera shake though, you must also use the timer, lest the slight vibration from the pressing of the button, undo your efforts.








In the world of stock photography, the top photographers shoot medium format Hasselblad, with Carl Zeiss lens, and a digital back. This set up will set you back fifty to sixty thousand dollars. Do you need to run out and buy equipment of this quality? Well, yes you do. I would recommend, if your children are young enough, that you sell a couple them. Another, less recommended option, is to keep the children and introduce them to the joys of spending their afternoons working in a sweat shop. You should still be able to get some nice Nikon or Canon equipment. That being said, it will still take you a little while to get your new equipment, so you will need to get along with your current set up. This is fine, as long as you don't let it go on for too long. If you have a digital camera, even if it isn't a fancy pants Nikon or Cannon, it is likely that there will be different write setting which determines how the camera takes the image and writes it to the disk. Once you find the different settings, there will likely be something like, small, medium, large, fine, and raw, or something along those lines. Basically it is determining how high a quality image you are taking. The important one is Raw. Shooting in raw will drastically reduce your memory card capacity, but that is what you want to use. The reason is that in raw, your little camera is basically capturing all the information it needs to make lots of adjustments after the fact.
I can tell by my word count that I have rambled on a bit, and I am not close to finishing my photographing woodworking rant, so I will make this a multiple part series. So before I put this drivel to bed for the night, let me reiterate the main points. Use a tripod, because it gives you flexibility with regards to lighting, and shoot in raw, because after you shoot, you can make adjustments to the image, to get it to look the way you want.
Once you have shot the image and downloaded it to your computer, you will be given an option to open the image in an editing program, usually included with the camera. This is where you can play with the image. You are able to overexpose (make brighter) or underexpose (make darker) the image. You are able to adjust temperature of the light (a future post will go into greater detail about warm vs. cold light) I have included 4 images, the 1st one is cold, the second one is warm, the third one has the black increased, and the 4th one is desaturated and darkened to create a black and white image. They are all from the same single shot, taken in raw. I hope this illustrates the value of raw and will encourage you to give it a try. I also have included a shot showing my lights.

So class, I expect that you are all eager to try out the tips from today's lecture. Your homework is to write a brief description of the camera equipment that you have in the comments section. Also I invite you to pose any specific questions you might have, though I must warn you that I am not good with world capitals or the periodic table of the elements.

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Ecocandle said:

Photographing my Blog pt. 2



I have been giving one tip to people for years. It is so simple, I hesitate to even call it a tip, but alas I don't have a thesaurus handy, so I have little choice. This applies to every photo, whether it is an image of your latest woodworking project or a prize winning picture of a yeti. The last thing I do, before I press the button, is to slowly force myself to run my eyes around the edge of the image. I know it sounds dumber than Jethro Bodine, but that is because it is so easy. In the words of a thousand commercials for footwear, 'Just Do It'.
When you start to look at the rest of the image, not just the finely turned bowl, you will notice that there is a corner of a box of diapers sneaking into the image. You will also get better at taking pictures of people. The stop sign that is 'growing' out of your girlfriend's head, or the car with your angry wife driving by the shoot, will suddenly pop out to you, and thus you can make slight adjustments (like making sure you take pictures of your girlfriend only when your wife is visiting her sister in Saginaw). This tip will work with any camera you have, though I still think you should get those lazy six years olds their first job, and get a fancy pants model. But I digress.

Along a similar line, when taking a picture of your work, if you wish to put some extra items in the background, like tools behind a project in process, or a delicious ham behind the aforementioned finely turned bowl, try to use a shallow depth of field. Depth of field is the distance (or depth) in the image, which is in focus. This generally applies to SLRs (Single Lens Reflex…aka…fancy pants cameras), but there are some point and shoots which have this capability. My mom's camera, the Powershot G10, is able to set the f-stop. So when I say shallow depth of field, I mean a small number on your camera's lens, or a small f-stop. For example an aperture setting of 3.5 will cause the background to be out of focus, thus causing the subject to stand out, while f22 (f stands for aperture, I could make up a story for why they use f and not a, likely involving a priest, a Rabbi, and an Episcopalian yak farmer, but I have already digressed.), would leave everything in focus. It is also important to understand how aperture works with light.

Shallow depth of field requires less light than a longer depth of field. This is helpful when you are taking pictures in artificial light, because the shutter doesn't need to stay open as long as it would if you were trying to have everything in focus. If you are getting really excited about photography and are starting to read up on the subject, you might run across the term 'fast lenses. This confused me for a long time. It is simply a lens that allows for a very shallow depth of field. They are generally much more expensive than a normal lens. For instance a zoom lens that goes to 300 mm, can be picked up for 3-400 dollars, a 'fast' lens, the giant lens that the photographers use on the sidelines of football games, those start at about $7000.00. This is not a lens you should need, as it is too 'long', for shooting your work, but it brings me to my next and last subject for the day.

This photo shows tilt shift in the table (sort of, it actually just demonstrates perspective, but you get the idea.), an annoying shiny bit from a Jet clamp in the top right corner, and also demonstrates shallow depth of field. This image can be improved substantially by simply removing the clutter in the top right corner. Were I to shoot it again, I would also slide the mortar slightly to the left. It feels slightly out of position where it is.



The amount of zoom you should use when shooting. If you are limited in space, you can use the wide angle portion of your lens, or zoom out. Zooming out, a back up the image, but it also causes something called bowing. Have you ever taken a picture of a tall object, like a dresser, and in the photo it looks warped? That is bowing. If you are taking a picture of a tall building, the building seems to bow out and the edges don't run parallel with the sides of the image. That is tilt shifting. It can be corrected in Photoshop CS 2, 3, or 4, but that runs you another $1000 and 8 or 9 months of intensive study to master, so fixing it, is not the best solution. It is better to try to take the image of your dresser from a greater distance and then zooming in on it. This will give you much better results. If you can put the dresser in one room, and stand out in the hall and zoom in, you will be much happier with the results. One last note, if you are taking a close up of your girlfriend's face while your wife is in Michigan, then try to stand further away, such that the zoom is at 135mm. This will be much more flattering. That is all for now. I am off to do some woodworking.

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Ecocandle said:

The Twins



I stand by my bench with my sander in hand. As I move it slowly over the piece of saw horse I see the marks of my progress. I gently pass over the little imperfections that taught me how not to us a chisel. I think about the progress. I think about the grain and how it measures time.

The building of the Krenov saw horses is supposed to take an afternoon, but if you are really skilled you can make it take a month. I am a person with this level of skill. Time is a funny thing and as I sanded away the wood, in effect removing little bits of time, I thought about my two saw horses. They would look very similar, sort of like twins, but each one unique.

In the late 70's the skateboard was all the rage. Not much more than roller skate wheels on a slab of plastic, it filled the summer of my 5th grade year with joy. Riding the skateboard was fun, but the real joy was hanging out with Doug, Marty, Paul, Jenny, Teri and Tracy and riding down the hill by our school. It wasn't a steep hill, but to make the turn onto the sidewalk at the bottom was quite the challenge. Once we had all mastered that, we tried going down in pairs, with each person sitting on their board and holding hands with the other with legs crossed. Making that turn was next to impossible and most attempts ended in wonderful crashes and laughter. It was also generally a mixed doubles sport.

I think I am hopeless romantic today, because of those days holding hands with Teri Holtz, riding down the hill. As I sanded the boards and admired the little differences that make the saw horses unique, my thoughts drifted back to Teri's freckles. Tracy, her twin sister, didn't have so many. To say the Holtz twins were 'cute as a buttons', would be to sorely understate their appeal. I think the saw horses are equally lovely.



Each minute sands away more and more of the imperfections. The legs, the feet, and the stretchers become smooth and soft to the touch. I spend a couple of hours sanding and waxing nostalgic. When I am done, I glue her up. Her twin waits patiently off to the side. While the glue is setting I think about what I have learned about woodworking.

I have cut 2 mortises, 2 through mortises, and six tenons by hand. My skill with a chisel and Japanese saw is better than when I begun. I have used Mary to shape the feet. I have spent lots and lot of time sanding. The understanding of how to mark up a board, and then cut to the line is now ingrained in my mind. And in the end, I have two saw horses that are 'cute as a button'.



Marty died a while back. I heard that Jenny has 6 kids. I don't know what became of Kate, Paul or Doug, and I haven't talked to Teri or Tracy since high school. They are different people today; I am sure, as am I. They may not even remember that summer. It really doesn't matter much. I am sure that time has worn away the edges a bit and I may not remember it exactly as it was. In truth, I am left with a soft, fuzzy memory of a simpler time, and wonderful little crush, with a bit of hand holding. It makes me smile.

I wonder if I will remember the joys of building my first saw horses. I wonder if the little nicks and cuts, now sanded away, will remain with me. I doubt it. But in 30 years, when I look at the twins, I am sure I will have a soft, fuzzy memory of how they came to be, and it will make me smile.

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Ecocandle said:

Henry Wood Detective Agency



Henry's head was still throbbing from ringing in the New Year. He looked at his calendar, a present from his brother in Manhattan, a New York Giants fan of all things. The calendar had a team picture of The World Series Champion Giants, who swept the Cleveland Indians in 4 games. It was galling for him to look at and he mumbled to himself, "At least the damn Yankees didn't win their 6th in a row." For though Henry didn't care for the Giants, the previous two years had seen his beloved Brooklyn Dodgers beaten by the Yankees, and he could barely stand it. But looking at Jan 1, 1955 filled him with hope and optimism. This would be the year for Robinson, Hodges, Reese, Koufax, Newcomb, Campanella and the boys. His day dreams were interrupted when there was a mouse like knock at the door. He started to yell, "Come in", but then lowered his voice and mumbled, "Yes?" His head ache made him wince in pains.

The door opened slowly and a tall svelte woman eased herself into his office. Her dark hair was pulled back in a bun. She was really quite striking, but obviously shy. He guessed librarian. "May I help you?" He asked, trying not to sound miserable.

"Are you Henry Wood, the detective?"

"Yes, and you are?"

"I am Luna Alexander, and I am afraid my father has gotten into a sticky situation. I need your help. I am sorry to bother you, and I didn't think you would be here, but…"

Henry was a detective by day and a woodworker by night. To be truthful, he was a moderately good sleuth, but a subpar craftsman. Just two days earlier he had been gluing up a jig for his router, to cut perfect dados, and the squeeze out had gotten everywhere. It had been a sticky situation, in its own right. He turned his attention back to Luna, who he was sure wouldn't be interested in his gluing issues.



After she had told him about her father, his background and when she had last seen him, she asked if she might sit down. When she took a seat, it seemed as if the weight of the world was threatening to crush her. She looked defeated and sad. "Will you help me?"

Henry was about to say that it sounded like a missing persons matter for the police, but instead said, "I would be happy to take your case Luna." She gave the slightest smile, stood and shook his hand. Henry wasn't sure, but he thought he caught the briefest glint of hope in her eyes. She handed him an envelope and said, "My address and number are in there, along with the retainer. Please let me know as soon as you find out anything."

As the door closed, he took out his little notebook and jotted down the details. Her father, a senior level accountant with Smith, Havershome and Blickstein Law firm and had been working for them for 20 years. Lately he had seemed distracted. He and Luna lived in a modest flat in Brooklyn and he took the train into the city. Luna worked at a bakery and was always up and gone before her father, but also arrived home several hours before him. She described him as a meticulous man. He liked routine and always came home at 6:22 each evening. Lately however, he had been getting home at all sort of odd hours, would skip dinner, not even bothering to listen to the radio. He loved his job, he loved radio mysteries, and he loved routine. She mentioned that she first started to notice something strange, when her father didn't even react to 'The Shadow' going off the air.

Henry wondered if 'The Shadow' knew what lurked in the heart of Mr. Alexander. He headed back to his tiny little house and into the basement. He checked his magic closet which had a time portal to the future, and occasionally a new and wonderful tool would show up. The Bosch router had arrived just a month or so earlier with a magazine describing all sorts of things it could do. The story of the portal was a mystery that Henry had not been able to solve, but since it hadn't sucked him into an abyss, and often gave him presents, he didn't care. Today it was empty. The glue up, from the day before, was ready for him to start the next step. He found that woodworking helped him mull over his cases.



The instructions, in the magazine by Woodsmith, indicated that the dimensions are rough, but Henry figured he needed the practice, so he devoted a bunch of time to precision. After cutting two pieces he realized he hadn't accounted for the kerf of his circular saw and had also made a measuring error of 2 full inches. He found it amusing that his attempts at precision had been such an abysmal failure. Henry had anticipated just such a result and had purchased plenty of extra lumber. On the upside, he had gotten much more comfortable with his circular saw. Henry was a glass half full sort of guy.

He took a few photos of the glue up and then went upstairs to call Mr. Alexander's firm. Then his foggy brain remembered that it was Saturday and also January 1, so he would have to wait until Monday. He returned to his jig and thought about Luna.

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Ecocandle said:

Henry Wood Detective Agency: A Good Review



A rotund man sits at a typewriter, his sausage fingers dance over the old Underwood, and he puts down his thoughts, his gospel if you will. He is revered or feared by all, there isn't any middle ground. He is the restaurant critic for the Brooklyn Daily News. If he likes a new restaurant then it will rocket up the charts quicker than a Wall Street broker chasing his secretary. If he unsheathes his poison pen then the restaurant owners will be spending their days in the serving line of the local soup kitchen. The clicking of key strikes is like a symphony to Francis Le Mangez. Today he is happy and full. "The soup was a delight and made me want to weep with joy. The Singe Café's, famous, monkey flambé, in a white wine sauce, tasted as if it had been prepared by angels and I savored each bite. If you go out for monkey only once this year, make it the 'Singe Café'."

Francis had an office across from Henry. Henry liked Francis and they would occasionally discuss food, politics and baseball, while throwing back highballs at the bar on the corner. Francis was a food snob, but he could also appreciate a greasy burger and a beer. As Henry put the key in his office door, Francis popped his head out, and said, "Your cop friend was here looking for you. I took a message."
He was, "What was the message?"

"Tell Henry to call me as soon as he gets back." said Francis, as he handed the tiny piece of paper to Henry, with a pretentious scowl. Francis and Mike McDermott didn't get along.

"Thanks", said Henry, "Eat anything good lately?"

"I had a wonderful dinner at The Singe Café on 17th street last night. I am writing it up now." He said, and whirled around and disappeared into his office.

Henry walked into the Wood Detective agency and put his hat on the hook by the door. He took off his overcoat and hung it next to the hat. He sat behind his desk, put his feet up and looked at the pencil. The numbers, so neatly written, were a message. He felt it was a message specifically to him, but he didn't know what it was, or what he was supposed to do.

He picked up the phone and called Mike. Mike McDermott had been in law enforcement for as long as Henry could remember. He solved more cases than anyone in the 5 boroughs, by using his razor sharp analytical mind, and sometimes a massive right hook. Mike loved chess and music. He had every recording of Enrico Caurso. He also enjoyed gardening and had an encyclopedic knowledge of root vegetables. When he was young, his nickname was 'Yam'. He was called 'yam' until a couple of fights and a growth spurt between his 9th and 10th grade years. After that he was called 'Big Mike'. Henry just called him Mike. Mike McDermott didn't have any use for private dicks, but he liked Henry.

The phone rang once and the voice on the other end bellowed, "Mike here…go."

"Mike, Henry here, I heard you were looking for me."

"So Frenchy gave you my message. I am surprised."

"He isn't so bad you know."

An audible grunt came over the line and Mike continued, "Word on the street is that you are poking around Smith, Havershome and Blickstein Law firm."

"So what if I am?" Henry played it cool. He didn't want to tip his hand. He actually didn't even know what cards he was holding, but he figured if Big Mike had gotten wind, then something must be up.

"Listen Wood, This is serious business you are sticking your nose into. If you know anything, you best come clean, before you get hurt." Mike said with an intimidating tone.

"You threatening me Mike?"

"Not me, but there are some dangerous people involved. I am trying to look after you." He replied with a friendlier tone.

"Dangerous people eh?" Henry said, trying to sound confident and hoping Mike would give him a clue as to what was going on. Henry needed a clue.

"I'm talking about the mob. The word is that some accountant has gone missing and they are anxious to find him. He knows things, things that could make a lot of people really unhappy."

"Thanks for the heads up. I will try to keep my head down." Henry said, and hung up the phone.

Henry was unsure of his next move and decided to head home. When he checked his magic closet he found that there was another gift from the future. A plastic case with a silver disk in it and a thing called a DVD player with a tiny screen that looked sort of like a television. The DVD was entitled simply, "Tage Frid", and it appeared it had come from 1997, as that was the copyright date on the back. Henry was delighted with his gift from the mysterious closet and when the screen came to life he marveled at the picture. It was in color.
Tage Frid came from Denmark in 1948, "after a couple of thousand students, I learned a few things" came from the tiny speakers, and after 75 minutes he had witnessed the charming old man teach him how he cuts dovetails, fixes a mistake, builds a drawer for a perfect fit, glues up pieces and his thought process in design. Tage Frid puts to use a jig he built 30 years ago. Henry quite liked the Danish woodworker's style. He thought about the DVD and that it was made 40 years in the future, about a man who was old, but today, in 1955, Tage Frid is a young man, who just arrived in the US a few years ago. Henry watched the DVD twice and marveled at the beauty of his furniture. He hoped that the closet would send him more of these DVDs, as they were very entertaining. He wished he could show someone his new toy, but he never told anyone about the time portal in his closet, for he feared that if he did, it just might disappear.

Henry wondered what Francis would say, what sort of review he would give this Tage Frid show. Henry knew that his recommendation would be 5 stars. He carefully put the DVD back in its case and put it and the player in a drawer under a blanket. He went to bed, thinking about Tage Frid furniture, and thinking about the numbers, 1, 2, 3, 5, 7, and 23.

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Ecocandle said:

Henry Wood Detective Agency: Wednesday



The day had been long. Henry's flash of genius was looking more like a flash of imbecile. Henry had remembered that Francis was working on a story about a restaurant on 17th street. He was sure that the missing numbers were an address. A map, a list, and 12 hours driving around the 5 boroughs, had been less than promising. He was sure that there would be another clue, something that wouldn't be obvious to most, but would jump out at him. Maybe he wasn't as clever as he thought.

Doubt had crept into the equation. A couple of dozen stops and nothing, well he had found an address across from a great tool store. He popped in and there were a bunch of guys watching a demo of jigs and accessories for making woodworking easier. His favorite was a clever device which would aid in making wooden hinges. Henry knew that if he couldn't stay too long, he noted the address so he could find it again, and continued on his way. With only one address remaining the possibility entered his mind that 11, 13, 17 and 19 may not have been the clue at all, maybe he should reconsider the original numbers.

His car rolled up outside 1113 17th, an apartment building in the warehouse district. There was a bit of a chill in the air. Henry walked up the steps and into the building. He glanced at the mail boxes. When his eyes landed on apartment 19, and he read the name, he almost stopped breathing, Tage Frid. Henry didn't have time to ponder the implications of his DVD from the future and his current case; he just knew that coincidences like this were never coincidences. He stood for a moment outside apartment 19. He thought about the wonderful furniture created by this man. A deep breath and then he knocked. No sound. He knocked again and nothing, not even a peep, so Henry slowly turned the knob. It was locked.

Henry looked around, nobody in the hall, so he quickly picked the lock. He leaned his head into the apartment and was both disappointed and sure he was in the right spot. When he saw the name on the box, he figured that the real Tage Frid might be waiting to give him a message, or maybe Mr. Alexander was staying with him. What he found instead was an empty apartment. It wasn't just empty; the vastness of the empty was stunning, and obviously the work of a meticulous man. Henry couldn't find as much as a speck of dust. He looked in the cabinets and they were bare.

Pacing back and forth didn't seem to help. It was getting dark and Henry was tired. What was the clue? What did the emptiness mean? He took out the drawers in the kitchen. He looked behind the ice box. He even checked in the vents. "Focus" he thought to himself. Henry walked to the window and looked out. Across the street was a warehouse. It did strike Henry as interesting that it was a furniture warehouse. Henry wondered what type of furniture they stored.



The street was empty. There were a few lights on in the warehouse, but it seemed as if most people had already left for the day. Henry tried the door, it was locked. He decided to look in the window. There was a lot of furniture. Bedroom sets, kitchen tables, chairs, and lamps for as far as the eye could see. Henry's eye went to one piece. A cabinet, a Tage Frid cabinet, was sitting against the far wall. Henry decided he had done enough breaking and entering for the day. Sometimes it is easier to just wait until regular business hours, than to be super sneaky, plus he was hungry and tired.



He swung by John's deli on the way home and picked up a couple of sandwiches. After dinner he decided to give his magnetic tool holder a bit of color. This was his first attempt at staining anything. He sanded a practice piece of oak and tried it. Since there weren't any disasters he grabbed the tool holder and went at it. Henry didn't have any idea about technique and simply lathered it on with the wooden paint stirrer. As soon as he had one side done, he wiped it off. It only took a few minutes to get the entire board covered. The gloves he wore were pretty messy and leaving marks, so he changed them for a new pair, and wiped every inch one more time, and then set it down to dry. It looked better than he had hoped for. He preferred to take black and white shots, but he had a roll of Ektachrome and decided it to go with color today. Tomorrow he would revisit the furniture store and try to figure out where to hang his new tool rack.

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Ecocandle said:

Henry Wood Detective Agency_Thursday Morning



Henry woke up early and couldn't get back to sleep. The furniture warehouse didn't open until 8 am, but the clock said it was 3 am. He had been asleep for 4 hours. He laid there for another hour and decided he might as well get an early start. An egg sandwich, cup of joe at the diner, and some pleasant conversation with Mable; the sassy little waitress and he had killed an hour. He rolled into the office at around 6:30 and made a list.

Call Luna and ask if she has heard from her father and bring her up to date.
Call Miss Culberson and tell her as little as possible. Henry didn't trust her at all.
Buy groceries and some 1×2's in maple. Henry hadn't done any shopping in a while and his cupboards were looking as bare as 1113 17th street.

And lastly and most importantly, check out the furniture warehouse and the Frid cabinet.
He tore the list off his pad and folded it neatly before putting it in his jacket pocket. Henry smiled at himself; he couldn't remember ever folding anything neatly. Mr. Alexander seemed to be rubbing off on him. He picked up the phone and 15 minutes later had updated Miss Alexander and reassured Miss Culberson that he was hot on the trail of a clue.



He walked down stair and out onto the street. His car was parked in the alley. The street was now busy with morning hustle and bustle. Henry could smell trouble at 100 paces. They sat in their car, reading the paper, but not turning the pages, just holding them there, it was a dead giveaway. There was a third thug leaning against a lamp post, also not reading a newspaper. Henry decided that they could tail him for a while. He would go poke around the lumber yard, buy what he needed and then lose them.

He found some nice hard maple 1×2's and picked up four 7 foot lengths and bunch of screws, washers, and other miscellaneous items. He loved the lumber yard. It was a big place almost maze like. He knew everyone there and when he went up to the counter he whispered to the manager, "Hey Bill, could you put this stuff on my tab? I need to lose my friends. I will pick it up later." Then at normal voice, "Oh wait, I forgot something." And he whirled around and headed back into the yard. The thugs followed, trying to look casual. Henry made a couple of quick turns and then up some stairs and into the manager's office, which had a convenient back door. He winked at Bill's secretary as he strolled past. She smiled. The thugs got back outside in time to see the tail lights rounding the corner two blocks away.

Henry took a circuitous route to the furniture warehouse, just to be safe. After some words with the man in charge, he was allowed to take a look at the cabinet. He opened the cabinet it was empty. He looked into the drawers and admired the dovetail joints. Each drawer was carefully removed and each one was magnificent, but held no clues. The old man who had showed Henry to the chest asked what he was looking for, and Henry explained that he thought there might be a message from a friend. The old man wasn't one of those people who suffered from being curious and just shrugged.

"This cabinet does have a secret drawer." And he carefully showed Henry how it opened.

"That is incredible; I would have never found that." He said in awe.

"That is why it is called a 'secret drawer'." said the old man with a wink and a smile.

Henry pulled it open slowly and there it was, the journal that Miss Culberson was after.

"Would you look at that? It wasn't there before. I guess your friend did leave you a message."

"I guess he did." said Henry with a grin, a wink and a nod. He didn't open the journal past the first page; he saw the meticulous handwriting and knew that it was the work of Mr. Alexander. He just tucked it into his jacket and thanked the old man, slipping him a twenty, to forget that he had been there. Henry decided it wasn't safe to go back to his office and he wasn't sure about the lumber yard, so he went to the library. He could bury himself in the stacks and give the journal the once over.

Henry took out his neatly folded list and turned it over. Page by page he slowly looked over all the entries. There weren't any names, and the numbers didn't make any sense at all. With each turn He found page after page of neatly written and obviously coded financial data. When he turned the last page, there was a note, neatly taped onto the back of the last page.

Dear Henry,

You are as clever as I had hoped. It will soon be noticed that I am missing. I cannot tell you where I will be when you find this. I myself don't know. I just know that the little book you are holding has all the financials to put a very powerful and dangerous man behind bars for the rest of his life.
I went to the police and told them everything just before Christmas. This was a mistake and I should have known better. It has gotten out that somebody at the firm was going to turn states evidence. They didn't know who it was at first, but as soon as I don't show up for work, they will put two and two together. I gave Luna instructions to find you, if I ever stopped coming home. You need to make sure she is safe.

I can't come out of hiding to testify as he has men everywhere. I need you to get this journal to the district attorney. After you do, I will need you to find the key, so that the book can be decoded. It is too risky to keep them together. Once the DA has both of them, he should have all he needs.

Thanks

A

Henry was suddenly worried about Luna. He hid the journal among the books at the library. He knew every floor and ever section of the library. The section on economic theory was generally ignored by the reading public, so he slid the journal behind several volumes by David Ricardo. He skipped lunch and drove straight out to see Luna. Suddenly he worried that the thugs he had shaken, might have gone their next. He couldn't worry about the groceries, or lumber, or woodworking, he had to find her and get her to a safe place. He just hoped he wasn't too late.

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Ecocandle said:

Frantic Speed Shopping



The sun was out today and it was the first time this year that I noticed the days seem to be hanging out a bit longer. They are sneaky that way, sort of creeping up on spring. After all the snow this winter, I will welcome spring with a giddiness that I haven't experienced in years. Of course, it was still cold out, when I got into my car, but the sunlight on my face warmed my spirits considerably.

I had errands to run. I needed to get some petrol and oil for my car. I was craving a Jimmy John's sub, so that was also on my list. The top task on my list however, was to try to make it over to ACME tool before they closed, so I could see the Festool rep. I had marked on my calendar that he would be in town on the 24th and 25th and today is the 24th! Since I purchased Mary the Jigsaw, I have been interested in seeing either the 5" RQ 125 FEQ or the 6" RQ 150 FEQ sander in action.

The Festool representative, Matt, had a piece of tiger wood, which had recently admitted to cheating on his wife with several types of exotics, from all over the world. Not only did I get to see it in action, I got to do the sanding! It was fantastic. He explained how to hold it correctly and also told my why it was important. Because of the design, it sort of looks like one might hold the sander too far back. He explained that this would lead to horrible chatter. So I did as he had instructed and there wasn't any chatter, it was smoother than a famous golfer picking up a porn star.

We started with some 120 grit and worked our way up until we were using some weird space age polishing pads. I have read that new woodworkers often over sand. The 6" RQ 150 FEQ sander, which has a random orbital setting and a gear setting, also has an attachment which collects dust. The dust collection was incredible. There simply wasn't any, the tiny little vacuum seemed to get it all. When I had made it through all the grits and polishing pads, the wood was polished like a new driver.

Before I knew it, the store was closing. I wasn't prepared to make my purchase today, as I like to mull tool buying decisions over, but I also was not at all prepared to leave ACME tool empty handed. That would be crazy talk. So in a near panic I scooted over to the section with measuring and marking devices. I swooped down the aisle, deftly grabbing a Crown Tools 10 ½ inch bevel in rosewood, a wheel marking guage by Shop Basics, and then frantically hailed one of the remaining workers, to unlock the Freud router bit cabinet. The ACME guys are always friendly, and they never rush me, but I have developed a terrible habit of making them wait on me to close up, so I am trying to do better. I looked at my iphone and I had my new ¼" double flute straight bit, with one minute to spare. I plopped the stuff on the counter and bought them. Whew that was close.

Worry not, if you thought that the closing of ACME, cut my woodworking shopping short, for I still intended to wonder over to Home Depot. Between ACME tools and Home Depot is a Jimmy John's sub shop, so that played right into my plans. I had the #5. Yummy!

As many of you know, I am working on building a router table. I have some ¾" ODF, which I thought I might take two sheets of and glue them together for the top. I have decided against that option, in favor of a more expensive one. I want each project to teach me a bit more about woodworking. So I have decided to glue up a bunch of 1×2 pieces of hard maple and oak, to create the table. Of course, I will be standing the pieces on their edge, so that the final thickness will be similar to the 2 pieces of ODF, but it will let me do some gluing. Also, I have been dying to try out my cauls, so this should be fun.

There is one additional benefit. I plan to assemble the tops, such that there is an opening, which is about a half inch smaller than my router table plate. This eliminates the need to cut a hole. I will give a more detailed explanation about how I approached my table top, after I have completed it. I bought 70 linear feet of wood, a piano hinge, and some Titebond II Premium wood glue. All in all, a good day, and now I get to go downstairs and cut some wood.

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Ecocandle said:

Afternoon Delight



The memories are always there, just waiting for a reason to bubble to the surface. It can be the mouth watering smells, wafting out from a bakery, or the glow of a corn field as the day gets chased away by dusk. For me, it is often the first few bars of a favorite song. Today, driving back from Cedar Rapids, as the sun was setting, and the snow cover fields seemed somewhat less frigid, my childhood memories came knocking. As the car took me home, the radio took me back to 1976. I was nine years old, loved baseball cards, Casey Kasem, and a fun little song by Starland Vocal Band, "Afternoon Delight".

I remember sitting by the stereo, with a cassette in the player, and my finger hovering over the record button, just waiting to hear my new favorite song. At nine years old, I listened to the lyrics, "Thinkin' of you's workin' up my appetite, looking forward to a little afternoon delight." I imagined that the song was talking about eating bomb pops, which to me would be delightful. What else could it mean? "Gonna find my baby, gonna hold her tight, gonna grab some afternoon delight", that is obviously a reference to snacking, isn't it?

Of course, those who were a bit more mature knew what the song was talking about, or so they thought. Though it is a romantic little tune, the 'Afternoon Delight', is in fact, a reference to the band's favorite lunch choice, from Clyde's in DC. I learned this many years later, while sitting at the Clyde's in Chevy Chase Maryland. I looked down and saw the name of the sandwich on the menu, and when I commented to the bartender that there was a song by that title, she smiled, took the menu from my hand and flipped it to the back cover. There was the band, and the article explaining that the song was paying homage to the very sandwich I had ordered.

My first set of 4 pieces of maple, which I had glued together, was not quite as brilliant as I had hoped. The ends had small gaps between a couple of the pieces, and there was a tiny gap in the middle as well. As a group, they were connected to one another with an iron grip, but that isn't quite good enough. It is important that they be without gaps.



The learning continues. I need to apply glue evenly across the entire surface of the board. I reasoned that if I used my little plastic scraper to press glue into the gaps. Another round of clamping and success was mine. There was a brief round of clapping from the gallery.



I have read of the evils of squeeze out. How it can really mess up the look when one is applying finish. I wanted to avoid squeeze out, so I didn't apply enough glue. As I looked at my gapless glue up, I took a heavy sigh and examined the amount of glue that was on the surface. I wasn't sure how hard it would be to get rid of, but I was determined to continue my education, so into the vice it went. Out came my belt sander and I proceeded to run it across the edge until there was nary a smidgeon of glue. When the glue was gone, so was the unevenness of the individual pieces of wood.



I thought that it was possible to grind down the edges of my glue up, with my belt sander, but I feared that I would get a really wavy surface. It was much flatter than I imagined. Would it have been easier to run it through a planer? I am certain that it would have been much easier. Would it be simpler to use a hand plane? Yes, it most likely would. Am I, as a person without a planer or the correct hand plane, going to be unable to get a nice surface for my router table? I am not entirely sure yet, but I think it is entirely possible to simply sand it down, until it is flat.

It will take a while. I like sanding, so I will spend the time, because, "My motto's always been; when it's right, its right. Why wait until the middle of a cold dark night. When everything's a little clearer in the light of day. And you know the night is always going to be there anyway. Sky rockets in flight. Afternoon delight…ooo…Afternoon Delight."

Feel free to sing along.

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