Clip: Bored

The past two weeks have revealed that the hundreds of half-empty boxes of nails and bottles of glue are not the extent of disorganization in the workshop. With some 19 students remaining in the class, there are numerous projects happening, all along the same approximate timeline. This has created serious bottlenecks, first for the jointer, then the planer, then the table saw, then the clamps and work benches. For the past four sessions, I have spent far more time waiting for machines - and helping others move their lumber around the crowded, cluttered room - than working on my project.

Now, this problem is more frustrating than harmful. We have until Thanksgiving to finish these projects, and once the wood is machined, the assembly should be relatively straightforward. (How long does it take you, after all, to put together an Ikea table?) Meanwhile, my Monday and Wednesday nights alternate between rushed minutes of wood handling, and long hours of tedium.

Which do you choose, a hard or soft option?

We have been urged to choose a project by next Monday's class, and to bring a crude sketch.

I am still overwhelmed by the options. I talked to the Instructor about a dining table. Although he has discouraged it in the past - because it is a large project in a crowded workshop, and we don't have the tools to properly turn a round tabletop and would have to wing it - I did detect in his eyes a glimmer, as if he would relish the challenge of "making it work" against these challenges.

Michael is encouraging me to make a desk for our new den/library. What we need for that room will, in fact, need to be custom made because of the functions we want it to possess - doubling as a media console and a work surface. Access to a well-equipped workshop could be a unique opportunity to do this for ourselves. And, it has the advantage of containing no round parts, only right angles, a more comfortable match for the workshop and my minimal skills.

In that same vein, though, we learned about the marketing of finished hardwood lumber last night (all merchants charge heavily for machining and even surfacing), and also watched a demonstration of the workshop's planing and sanding tools. This leads me back to the idea of simply machining beautiful hardwood shelves to use throughout the house, as (lacking such heavy equipment at home) this could be a chance to save a lot of money, even if we don't install these shelves immediately - or, for that matter, even know where they're going!

Not Afraid of Fear Itself

There is a certain comfort in having one's fear realized. Such an experience confirms that your anxiety was rational, not paranoid, and it can also breach a defense that would be tiring to maintain. Last night I really revealed my inexperience and uncertainty, but at the same time freed myself to take up a learner's role without pretense or reservations.

Since I first considered taking carpentry class, I knew I would struggle with measuring and math. Of course, I do these things every day! But, at home, there is no embarrassment in measuring, remeasuring, re-remeasuring, and drawing a dozen diagonal lines on a 2x4 to gradually discern a right angle. Additionally, one of my worst math skills is subtracting with fractions - Good God, let there be metrics! - which was revealed to be a core competency required for last night's project, and for the whole practice of carpentry in North America.

In a week, this little board will feature a box joint, blind mortise, through mortise, hinge recess, dado joint and rabbet!

Dropped in the Shop

At the end of our first lecture, after two or three long, awkward breaks in the long, mostly awkward presentation on the otherwise scintillating topic of lumber, our instructor informed us that we'd spend the remainder of the allotted time cleaning the workshop in preparation for the semester ahead.

He framed this with a tone familiar to summer campers and army recruits - the cleaning of the workshop being offered as a combination of orientation and hazing, at the end of which we would have not only a clean place to enjoy but a "sense of ownership" over its contents and condition.

Even if we'd had not hours but days to "clean" this workshop, we would hardly have made a dent in the mess. Piles of nails lay about in piles of sawdust. A tool cabinet's doors swung open giving glimpses of a heaping melange of squares, chisels, mallets, and even more nails. Boxes of nails tumbled off shelves, spilling yet more nails on table tops, stacks of broken rods and boards, and countless half-used bottles of wood glue. I was happy to have brought my work gloves for picking up fist-fulls of nails.