One year ago today: June 7, 2016, tropical storm Colin.
Five years ago today: June 7, 2012, I’ll pay the $10.
Nine years ago today: June 7, 2008, thong tan lines.
Random years ago today: June 7, 2013, fifty cents each.
We start with a photo a lot busier than it looks. This is one of the brass bolts that came from my restored lawn bench. These had been painted over and nobody noticed the beauty of the metal until after I cut (bolt cutters) a couple of the seized pieces. It was also too late as I had already replaced the bolts in the reassemble structure with galvanized steel. Did you know there is a specialty bolt factory in Polk County if you really need nice units.
The following is really from last night, but it ranks because it was a first. At 9:30 PM I just was not tired, a touch of the old insomnia. Usually, I’d reach for a tough textbook. For the first time, I changed that routine and went outside to the work shed. And spent two hours on the woodwork. Sanding, staining, sealing. And it was fun even if the only clear radio station was that Tampa new country that plays the same song 12 times every hour. What? Okay, let me rephrase that. They play 12 songs with the same tempo, pattern, fills, and instruments every hour. Happy now?
This is a real departure from routine for me. With electronics or music, there is no incentive to finish a project right away. With woodwork, the next step is always as soon as the paint dries. Things move along but of course, I still always start more projects than I finish. And by 11:00 PM I had the candle bases inside, designing a template for the side posts. You don’t need to tell the world, but indoors as a throwback to my college days, I tend to work exclusively in metric, then measure the finished work in standard.
Then inexplicably for me, I was up at dawn applying another coat and trying to find a Tampa radio station that doesn’t have a queer-sounding DJ just to irk people. All I found was a group harassing the guy who put up lawn signs. The radio staff had used their superior knowledge and authority to label it “hate speech”. I thought that was up to the courts to make that determination, but I guess not in Tampa. Apparently the guy just doesn’t want specific types of people on his lawn. I thought as the owner of private property, he had that say-so. Not according to those First Amendment authorities of Tampa radio.
They were joking about hiring a gay choir to go sing anthems in his yard. At least I think and hope they were joking, unless they’ve never heard of buckshot, in which case they need to. I’ll never understand these non-mainstream types who think they can legislate and shame others into liking them. Acceptance isn’t enough, because they know such acceptance is a fake show for the public. Just ask their parents. And don’t label me, I am not against these fringe groups. I am against people making a constant spectacle and nuisance of themselves. Those who do that get what they deserve.
Tornado scar.
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Woodwork continues to top my list. Here’s an update on the candle lanterns. I say again there can be no profit unless they are produced in batches, which means using jigs and templates. The process is identical to robots, except with robots you often find yourself fabricating a template for a single undertaking. With wood, there is no such thing as a mistake, but that comes at an often irritating price. Your template must incorporate every potential error that can occur. For instance, my first jig to drill the rail holes did not allow for slight variations in the way the router smoothed the corners.
The movie is budget scenery, but very well produced. It is a mite difficult for me to sympathize with somebody who can buy estates in rural Italy and still have enough cash after a divorce to renovate and cook gourmet meals for the work crew. Then again, we all know I am the only writer who ever had to work for a living. Then again, again, I only post an annual average of 731,000 words in this blog.
There are little gems throughout the script if you pay attention, although the movie breaks no new ground. Of course divorcees are lonely, so why keep slapping us with it? My favorite, however, is the train tracks build over the Alps. It was before anybody invented the locomotive. That I can identify with, because my college girlfriend, Judy. She was always laying tracks.
Now the guy that gets her, this guy was almost as smooth as me for getting her to ask him. And he needed a script. Did you know I’ve never asked a woman to sleep with me? Never had to, but I admit to facilitating matters and making it an easy decision for her. What? You say I’ve asked three women out in my life? That’s true, but not only did I actually just want to go out with them, that is not the same thing except for the uber-imaginative. The whole flowers and candy approach is stale, though I will do that later in the relationship. But at first? Too Oprah for me. Then again, I have nothing against asking women to do the wild thing, and would not hesitate if the circumstances ever presented themselves. And Sally, that word was “facilitating”.
Cut this movie some slack. It is a chick flick; we knew from the FBI warning where this thing was going. What was that! Direct hit on something nearby. I wisely cut down the trees that might be targets, but I’m going outside to check the yard anyway. The farmers must be happy now. The streets are flooded. And I’m going to the shed to paint another coat. Must be nice to buy a house and have enough cash to renovate it. Hey, watch that, buddy. This ain’t no Italian villa.
Be aware this movie is primarily a thin plot overlaying the constant theme that minority homosexual behavior is just another lifestyle, along the lines that a burglar could be, say, a wonderful father when he wasn’t busy stealing your property. Burglars need love too. Maybe they should form action groups and hold burglar pride parades. Then they, too, will one day be accepted as much as, well, you-know.
“A fool isn’t someone wrong, a fool is
someone afraid to be wrong.”
~Anon
Here’s your rare picture of the day, the candle-making template in progress. It is expected to stay in progress a while for a good reason. You can go on-line to probably any library in this nation except in Lakeland, Florida, and find all the books you want on candle-making. That’s the “duh” part, melting and pouring wax is about the IQ of most people who would consider a hobby. But just you try to find a single book on how to build a candle holder. No, not a video. A real set of blue-print-like how-to instructions on making the templates so you can do better than hand-build one at a time. Hell, I did that the first day. Now I want twenty, and I’m on my own.
These rails must be held securely in place to drill the dowel holes. This is a challenge as the rails are nearly a foot long and wobble. The prototype I drilled by hand, but that is not an option. This stage can take no longer than twenty seconds. The circle in the center is the position of the candle holder on the bottom plate and the chimney diffuser in the top place. Banana for scale.
ADDENDUM
An impromptu meeting had us digging though buckets of rusty tools. Everybody remembers seeing some fancy hole drills, the kind used to install door knobs. The cheap crap from Home Depot is only good for thin materials. Anything more than 1/4” and the blades overheat. We found only the 1-1/4” drill so I’ll see how that works. Remind me to go through those buckets again, there must be thousands of dollars worth of tools and maybe some can be salvaged.
How about a new term? Entering company parlance is this phrase: “34rpm”. It means everything is normal and proceeding as planned. I like that, 34rpm. It derives from the rock polisher, which is set up right next to the shed door, so whoever walks in will spot it. The custom is to note what is observed on the handy clipboard. When everything is fine, the polisher, built in 1963, is rolling along fine at 34rpm, which will likely soon be shortened to just “34”.
The problem of drilling the rails was also discussed but not solved. The consensus is to build a jig and drill a hole under the regular drill press. The stick fits vertically down through the hole to beneath the table with the business end poking up through the drill plate. The drill depth controlled by a collar on the bit. I decline any idea that modifies the metal parts of my nice drill press. Unless I hear any better ideas any time soon, I’m going with that.
Last Laugh
(Wendy's $15/hr employees.)
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