Of the blessed reign or our Good King Henry VIII, I Ringold Smythe, am the King’s Own Stage master.  At opening night, I do follow the King to the theatre having built for his amusement a rolling, four-wheel’ed cart pushed by footmen and verily being as the pathway to the theatre is downslope over smooth pavement, The King rides as if propelled by the wind, the two lackeys perched upon the back of the cart as if on the rear of a carriage.  While our Liege Lord makes ready for his entrance, I doth venture backstage whereby to ensure that all is in readiness for tonight’s fancy.  All seemeth well.  The venue is our standard Theatre Royale as would be familiar to all with taste and discernment who have attended one of my entertainments: semi-circular in internal form with steep rising seats for the plebes; the surrounding curvilinear walls are all box galleries for the high-born and noble.  Galleries cloaked from the view of the plebes by a shear purple (but not too purple so as to draw the ire of our Dread Sovereign) ceiling to floor curtain.  The King enters below stage right surrounded by a curved wall of gild on paper mache carried by pages so as to conceal His Majesty from all view.  Once seated, our Rex Britannica waves off the pages and reveals himself radiant in gold: golden wig, golden jewelry, gold-bedecked pantaloons seated mightily upon a gilded throne.  The curtain cloaking the galleries is withdrawn, and the play oracle, unaccountably and against my strictest command arrayed in a disreputable saggy gray t-shirt, gaily festooned culottes of the French (Hawaiian) Style, and uncouth, open footwear, sometimes referred by the demimonde as ‘flype-floupes” makes complete nonsense out of what was to be the opening for our play.  Happily, our Dread Lord is more amused than offended and the frolic commences, but not on the stage, per say, but amid the tiers of seating for the lower orders.  So effective is my diverting drama that at the end of Act I, diverse Lords and other Worthies do  offer bodily harm to our play’s malefactor accusing him of high crimes and treasonable acts and it is only by my direct interference is grievous harm toward my capable and loyal thespian prevented.  Between Acts, anon, my mouth doth feel full and verily I must spit out most if not all my teeth.  AHA!  This be, if I am no simple sabot, the hallmarks of a dream!  In sooth, I turn to my collaborator and verily doth show him two handfuls not only of teeth, but of bones both small and large.  As a look most horrible passes over his countenance, I bid him be glad, “Nay, nay my friend, be of good cheer!  God’s Blood  my friend, ‘tis the portend of much joy, for this being a dream, we canst do all and that we please.  Come, let us fly forth and  seek such merriments as our every wish commandeth!”  And so I take him by the arm and we levitate over the gapping crowd, out the theatre to hover as we will it over the vast and peopled City of London.  I know my comrade seeks amusements of the physical kind as I do, but with him he pursueth a form called by some an abomination whereas I, being of a normal constitution, desireth the sweet dalliance in the arms of a woman.  Losing my purpose for but a moment to construct a rude meal consisting of meats and cheeses inserted between two flat slabs of bread, I once more fly to the rooftops seeking comely damsels to which to pledge, if not my troth, a substantial and not unpleasant aspect of same.  Hark!  I espy through the glass in place of roofing tiles a most likely scene of concupiscence.  Entering, I alight before something of a mid-room vestibule in which is poised the objects of my affections.  Her glad face gleameth like the sun radiant after the rainstorm, her opalescent teeth all a-row like pearls set in a frame of thornless roses.  I pitch to her my most ardent woo, causing the collapse of the flimsy vestibule, yet all in good sport as laughter rings from within the shattered structure.  Pulling her forth and to me, I embrace her breast as she pushes heartily against my nether regions.  While all seems as God (and Man) desires, suddenly her father enters whereby I feel introductions are necessary and some fanciful excuse required for my unannounced and unexpected presence here in this man’s estate.  The supper bell rings and we all prepare to partake when …..

Things were going so well, it had to end at the dawn.

Item: four days ago lugged the inert desktop computer to the capable shop of PC People where Michael gave me an over-optimistic assessment on turn-around time.  Thanks to my Frequent Failer status there, I knew it would be four days, or more.  Call from Melissa at PC People – “You’re computer is ready.”  Didn’t say “…. For the scrap heap, which was encouraging.”

“Oh, what was the problem?”

“Hardware checks out okay; but one of your RAM chips wasn’t seated.”

Physical.  The problem was physical.  One that I could have fixed simply by jiggling the chips.

I don’t ask how much, just drive over there and they don’t hurt me too bad for being a dunce.  About half their hourly rate.  Pays to be a Frequent Failer.

SUMMERDAY –

Even the humpback whales are lumbering up on shore asking for sun screen.

Josh is your full-service welder…. just don’t count on him for elegant design.

There’s a clamor on the new drawbridge, why it’s Josh measuring for the galvanized steel pipe PG Code Mandated grip rail.  He’s off to his shop to build same.

Hours later, the welding truck is back and what he’s fabbed is too long.  He cuts the 15 foot long rail off and must then re-weld on one of the elbow ends.

I have alluded in past to The Real Guy – the guy with all the proper tools who knows how to do stuff, do it right the first time and never suffers a FAIL.

I shan’t make that allusion again, for today, if Josh was not A Real Guy, there is no Real Guy.

Amid this excitement I get a call back from the Physician’s Assistant with whom I consulted 9 days ago and one week after the X-ray’s of my paw were taken.  I had to call THEM and leave a message.  It’s like an office – everyone knows that they are supposed to do, but you have to nag them to do it.  The PA say’s that my bones are normal – she had posited that the swelling was caused by deformation of the phalanges, which I knew not to be the case, but she’s being a good steward in walking through check-list –  and maybe the blood tests will reveal some underlying pathology.  Blood tests not scheduled for another three weeks.

What can be done NOW?

Her guidance: get whacked on 2400 mg ibuprofen/day for seven days, then call with a report.  I’ll try anything, just like an unReal Guy.

And here is the epitome of a Real Guy Josh, who was a kinetic cock-up.  Sloppy, inefficient, disrespects his tools, and with the design ethos of a trailer park handyman.

Even so, I might learn something, and ask for a job; so I pitch in holding the rail on the back of the truck whilst the re-weld is done, not inhaling the MIG fumes, serving as one end of the Hold It Up To The Stairs And See If It Fits This Time doorstop, and asking questions all the while.  Josh got his start in welding doing underwater work out of New Orleans, has shops in Big Sur and Carmel Valley, his father and he restored a 1937 flatbed and let a custom-made Corvette chassis rot on the tires.

He’s modified stock rail mount brackets for either end of the rail where it turns 90 degrees to the stair posts, welds these on, then has to remove them because the angle wasn’t right.  He does a dozen things I wouldn’t do even if I knew how to weld as well as he does.

In the end, the grip rail looks like lipstick on a tortoise.  And even so, I ask him for a job.  No.

SUMMERERDAY –

I’ve got the fan running all night, run two of the grizzly bears down to the sub-den as I need not their warmth, the day dawns clear and bright, shorts weather.

Who could ask for anything more?

Provisioning time too:  TJ’s for O’boom, Smart & Spineless for coffee, then The Dump where the Toxic Table serves up a carbon quartet of lacquer thinner, turpentine, and acetone and japan dryer.

Set a new Grocery Cheaplet record – $11.93.

More at Walgreen’s for the 80 caps of anti-inflammatory, less at Ka-nob Hill Market for Palermo Rolls and few gracknoids of opportunity.

Dismiss the footmen when the carriage reaches the front gate and turn to The Shop where abrasion, then a fifth coat of Wildman’s Elixir is put to the Case Case.

Now, for Real Fun – fit the eight parts of the two new mailboxes.  The fit meet between the kerfs of the front and backs and the front and side rabbets of the sides needs improving.  This is done with my rabbet plane – so named because its knife is the full width of the plane body – and my $7.99 Harbor Flotsam jack plane, which is my go-to plane.  And if there is any more satisfying, enjoyable woodworking act than shaving 1/256’s of an inch from the edge of a board, I have yet to meet it.

Meet all eight parts into two proto-mailboxes with monkey glue and clamps.  Turn to the flags.  Figure for aluminum, this close to salt water so knock out a pair of isomers from angle stock.  Will red paint hold?

Amidst this quandary The Prof arrives.  It was Beer Time.  Yes, it was.

Not shown here is the apricot colored full moon rising over Gavilan Peak.

PEAKDAY –

The four 200 mg ibuprofen gulped at bedtime had an unusual effect.  I wake in time for the Midnight Study Hall and feel as if all my organs had shifted to different places, and none of them particularly well connected to each other.  Strange.

Also strange, but strange good is my big bet in the market – it’s rounding the Club House turn flying three furlongs in front, which loosened the noose about my neck a micro furlong.

No bet but a sure thing there was the fun to be had in The Shop where I ignored The Case Case and went directly to the Mail Boxes.  Rough sanded the exterior of the two boxes, and then slashed the top down by 20 degrees.  Had to rip another former step to find sufficient size for the two mail box lids: 20 cm square.  Need bandsaw with a 30 cm re-saw capacity.  Not shown here.

Now, an ordinary artisan would simple plan to clap the back and underside of the lid a pair of cheap leaf hinges and be done with the box/lid merger.  But not me.  No.  I needed to mortise the lid and the mail box body.  This was done on the router table by setting stops and the fence to limit the 3mm mortise depth and the side-to-side width of the mortisii.  3 mm because 6 mm is the closed profile of the aluminum continuous hinge, cut to match the mortisii.

To allow for swing of the lid to clear the overhang of the top rail, I need to offset the mailboxes 4.5 cm off the stair posts, or have less lid in the back.  One way that this can be achieved is to interpose two spacer blocks the width of the post connecting the  top and bottom of the back of the mailboxes to the post; but how to screw through the back of the box, through the spacer block and into the post?  The top is straightforward, since the box is cut angled forward, I can screw right through the back and the spacer to reach the post – even have screws long enough.  But the bottom poses challenges.

The reason I’m using two separate spacer blocks instead of a single, vertical spline is that I want clearance behind the mailboxes for the Outgoing Mail Flag, which will be pivoted behind the back of each mailbox (pivoted behind the back …?).    In its At Rest position, it will be hidden behind the box.  Where there is outgoing mail, the flag will be deployed in the hopes that our town mail carriers will actually notice and collect the outgoing should there be a day when there is no incoming.  We can hope….

Perhaps the lower spacer blocks can be pocket holed from below.  From below as I don’t want any screw heads showing, not that that hindered James and David.  Also hindering them last week was how to connect the upper end of the new stairs to the short balustrade on the portico.  I made and installed  a pair of oak gussets that serve.

Tired.  Will leave mailbox attach method to the morrow, should morrow there be.

MORROWDAY –

Heavy moving sounds all night.  It’s the Arizona and New Mexico nudist colonies shifting to Monterey.  Due to Global Warming, we’ve more sunny, warm days here than in Mesa or Albuquerque.

I sport only a loin cloth – raised to flag the odd passer-by – to The Shop where the Case Case is just not taking on that sheen I’ve seen from Wildman’s Secret Elixir.  No matter, it shall have a dun coat and be done with it.  Onward to the Mailboxes.

Still have not resolved the means by which the two mailboxes shall be affixed to the new drawbridge posts, so it’s to the numbers I turn.  Address numbers, although the plain numerals on the castle, on the drag in front speak, the Mail Carriers often do not listen.  We shall iterate..

Think about post fixing whilst carving out the 147 and 149.

Knew that the 9 was going to be the challenge, so worked up to it by staring on the 1’s, then graduating to the 4’s.  The seven posed only this challenge: how to not make it look too big against the 1 and 4?

Did I?  Dunno.  Now, must face fear: do the 9.

Done.  Gawky.  So be it.

Predrill for the brass brads and still have not resolved the post attach means.  Fall back on insuperior Midnight Study Hall resolve: pocket hole the lower, if I can position the boxes high enough on the post to get access from ‘neath, and through drill and screw the upper spacer.

Amid this happy indecision arrives a case of Anchor Steam and into the Shop fridge.  It’s The Prof depositing his payment for helping someone shift a bed from Salinas.

So be it.

The top spacer can be screwed to from the open face of the mailbox, the lower cannot.  Pocket hole it is.

And shall be once the mailbox floor is glued and nailed in place.

Test fit the lids.  Test Fit Is Good.

There remains only one unresolved Design Issue: the Outgoing Mail Swiveling Clip.

As I’m marking time on this one, The Prof returns to determine if his Anchor Steam is cold enough.  It isn’t, but we drop a few bottles into the grotto where the glacial fed rivulet quick-chills all the burglars I’ve tossed down the ancient fumaroles.

JohnsonArts suspends operations for the day – brew chilled sufficiently or no – is unconfined.

BOXDAY –

Finished both the Case Case and the two Mailboxes.

To cases: What my mailbox wanted was the Outgoing Mail Swiveling Clip.  This was formed from brass rod and strip.  The rod bent into a sort of omega shape, and the strip bent to form brackets for either side.

After putting stain to the box bottoms and the inside of the lids, it was Installation Time.  Only lost one screw and only swore three times when I discovered that my offset from the post was insufficient for lid travel.  Sliced enough from the back of the lid to obviate this embarrassment.

The boxes look good, better than the old boxes by 6000% (okay, okay, 5924%), but there was still another item I’d forgotten: a stop for the Outgoing Mail Flag.  Quick drilled 19/64” holes and glued in a short length of dowel.  Done.

To the Case Case.

Happily, very little Gorilla Glue exudate squeezed out into the visible realm and so clean up was minimal.  Screw on the feet, take the glam shots for the website and Done.

What’s next?