Paul the Painter and Scotty the Spare arrive not too early and set to priming and deck coating.

I ask Paul, who is about my age, how he came by his craft.

It turns out that he was something of a wastrel, about which I would know nothing.  Graduated from college but couldn’t find a job.  Made a dicey living as a golf pro and pool shark, although according to him, he wasn’t a terribly good one.  One day, one of his gambling buddies – a former Lancaster bomber squadron leader in WWII – who was at that time a property manager, needed some painting done.  Hack work, as Paul came to realize.  Wanting to better himself and his craft, he apprenticed with a contractor until he was satisfied that he’d developed sufficient acumen in his craft to strike out on his own.  And this he did and does to this day.

Another interesting attribute about Paul is that he is a collector, with a collector’s passion, or some would term, sickness.  He collects trading cards.  Baseball cards immediately – Honus Wagner, Willie Mays –  come to mind, but the field is not limited solely to sports, and the collectables range back in time, well, to cover the Twentieth Century.  According to the premiere authentication agency, PSA, the value of only those items valued by PSA and not counting those provenanced and valued by others, and Paul says that PSA is the most reliable and well-regarded, exceed $1B, that’s B for billion.

I ask how he preserves his cards, paper being not your most physically stable of materials; and he tells me that they are all sealed in plastic.  This makes me not a little sad, and him too because one of his joys is simply smelling the vintage cardboard.  We both recognize that to handle or use a venerable object is to degrade it a little bit each time.  Yet to collect, to have, to recognize that you are only caretaking for the future should not, nay cannot, interfere with the pleasure of touching, using, holding, smelling – for without those tactile and sensory pleasures, what point collecting?

It’s a bit of an aside, but I think the below snippet of poetry conveys the sense of why we ought enjoy a thing rather than being a prisoner of some self-conceived, perceived future worth of what we collect – think of people who cover their god damn chair seats in plastic and tarp over their table tops so that you never see the beauty of the wood – protecting it from being enjoyed and treasured rather than enjoying and treasuring it for the connection we have with it.

“I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life. To put to rout all that was not life, and not, when I had come to die, discover that I had not lived.”

Thoreau wrote that about 170 years ago, and it never was more relevant than today when popular culture seems to offer unlimited benefits, but in fact demands constant attention to imbecilic trivia and incessant devotion to meaninglessness.

DAY –

Aside from a sub-remunerative contract job off Craigslist, to which I applied, with some success, and the success of which is measured only in talking to a Turing Test Passing entity, I thought the day worse than a wash as the market, reflecting the feckless turds ostensibly managing the public weal tanked like a bowling ball down the well, and how’s that for a run on sentence.  Yes.

And then, the wenge arrived.

It’s 2 board feet of a dark, chevron grained 8/4 destined, should the Fates Allow, for a bathroom sconce in the rented building bought by a Dog Psychologist for a cash number at least twice the four Grants I’m asking for my toil.  Must weight in at half a stone a board foot.  I take a splinter walking my hand down the milled edge and glad for it.  I want the wenge in me so that I can be the wenge when I work it.  If work it I do.

Amidst this, The Prof arrives with half a case of Guinness.  He’s back to ‘work’ at the NPS, but not being paid.  The Navy has declared that he is “Essential Personnel” without the jack tar dollar on the barrelhead to esteem him rightly.

He likes the cherry Scoptics case, and offers to sell me a cherry plank, as of yet unseen here at JohnsonArts, worth at least six times the amount of Irish Chill Chaser he’s trundled into The Castle in only the last four weeks.

What to do?

NOPAINTDAY –

But after almost a week without a rike in an attempt to placate the suddenly acute left knee, perhaps there ought be.

There was, which aborted before almost I could vilify the local crow herd.  Curses.

But hey, life can’t be all bad as I received the high-sign about yesterday’s Craigslist post:

The result after much rust debridement is a fully functional reader that will allow the user to travel back in time to the far-distant 20th Century.

Offer: Microfiche Reader

Only used by shy but reference librarians on Sundays.
Hey, this could really come in handy if you have little bitty fish . . .
You can be reading Microfiche sheets today !

440 Junipero, it’s moving day and I move out with the Micro Design 910 in form and style the zenith of 1970’s.  Two tags inside state that this unit (Serial # 007909) was inspected May 10, 1979, which was just about the day I graduated from Penn State.

It’s in good shape, some rust scoring on most of the horizontal surfaces, but it cleaned up well and the blub lights.  Pity I haven’t any little fiche’s to read, but once the Library of Congress digitizes everything, I’ll be at the skip off the loading dock.

In an effort to further put gloss to a shaggy future, lammed two coats of Wildman’s Secret Elixir onto the Tantalus.  It does look better, more shiny,  Unlike the Stock Market.

MARKETDAY –

The usual pre-weekend visit for provisions, but not before an extended flying dream.  So much flying I became fatigued and had to alight – it gets you in the heels.

Heeled a-thwart the village for the O’boom rations, then on a whim, to Colton Hall.

It’s only 9, who could be here?  But there was Clair, the City Historian’s able helpmeet and to who I put this question: What is the status of the donation box?

Weeks ago I had discussed with the City Historian the possibility of creating a pedestal for a clear, acrylic box to accept (and secure) donations.

It was well that I probed because while Clair remembered the episode, she could not find the preliminary specification (napkin drawing) and in actuality, the job had slipped into the nether-world of bureaucratic noise.

My noise this morning re-awakened the scheme.  One hopes.

Hopeful of finding at Slob Hill Market the red Holiday Grapes – which each one of them are tiny presents from the gods – I traipsed thither and my hopes were fulfilled.

To Castle Slackton where I am just at the drawbridge when Paul the Painter and his familiar Scotty the Spare arrive.  They spend the working hours of the day applying Spanish Sand – that’s the hue, not the texture – to the four north deck railings.

I spend (slack) the mid-day preping helpful materials for Theresa.  Specifically, a full-scale mock-up of one of the sconce corner pieces –

The sconce mock up is essentially an open box of which three sides are glass – the two short sides are bolstered with struts.

I’m banking on a 1” square cross section – with a ¼’ kerf in which will reside the art glass.  I’m making this so she’ll not have to measure how much edge to leave clean of art or solder.

I also make four tiny brass brackets that I hope can be incorporated into the solder by which the front glass can be, in addition to the Gorilla Glue, secured to the two front corner verticals.

This done, there’s nothing for it but explore the Unknown.

Specifically: how to cut double-ended, double 45 degree mitres on the 12 pieces that will form a rectangle; and most significantly, how to glue up all the pieces.

Plane to a square cross section some fir, then rough out 8 lengths to about 16 cm, and 4 to about 19 cm.  And that was the easy part.

Since I can’t mentally visualize how the double 45’s are to be cut, I start by cutting – on the band saw as this seems to me to be the sort of delicate, nice endeavor more suited to the deft slicing of the thin band saw blade than the finger-mangling (possibly) table saw – single 45’s so as to make the upper and lower ‘frames.’

This done and laid out, it’s more obvious the orientation of the second 45, which is thus cut.  The advantage of using square cross section is that the parts are interchangeable, rather, there’s no left side / right side orientation to concern the student.  Not that when that student passes his first exam, other cross sections could not be contemplated.

But first things worst, or in this case, lam out the 4 up / down connector pieces.

And that was the Almost Easy part.

The Not Easy Part: how to finesse each 45 angle and arrive at 8 pieces all the same length and with the 45’s square to the length, and the same with the 4 connector pieces?

I did so and still do not know how.

And now for the coup de grace: the glue up.

The corners where three double 45 degree joints meet are – we hope – enjoined by the aluminum ‘shoes.’

Dry-fit and band clamp using the aluminum open-end ‘shoes’ I’d fabbed last week.  Piscataway!  This just might work.  Glue up both ‘ends’ – the ‘top’ and ‘bottom’ 16 cm frames and now the real magic: can I glue up the connecting four 19 cm pieces?

Somehow, it comes together, although the main liability to using the aluminum open-end corners is that I cannot see the point where the three mitres meet at a point.  But all else is lovely.  As far as I know.  Today.  You?

As I write this, it’s been hours since the glue-up, I could drop down the laundry chute, tear off the web clamps and have a gawk.  Let It Ride.

RIDEDAY –

Ride over the hill and back, but that’s getting ahead of the story.

The main story is another homework task: form a casket using only double 45’s.

This seems more doable than even it did yesterslack, for this morning unclamped the double-ended, double 45 degree mitre test article.

The aluminum shoes did fine duty.

Not Bad, not bad at all.  The corners where the three pieces meet is the challenge and it seems that my open-ended aluminum shoes were effective.  The offset at the critical tri-corner was negligible.  Zounds!

Now, for the casket.

Chose red cedar as I could cut a 5 cm square length into fours and get about the 2 cm cross section I though I wanted for all the box parts, for which I needed (wanted) about 400 cm total.

The ripping done, planed the parts down to a square cross section, then rough cut to length for the parts that will form the frame of the rectangular cuboid.

The sides and top will be glass, the top hinged, and the floor solid ply.

Now for the fun.  Lay out the parts then run kerfs for the floor and the glass; and that was the easy part.

The less easy part: fashioning all those double 45’s.

Used the band saw with the mitre gauge and a stop block to rough the angles; then finessed the 45 on the disc sander rather than the mitre trimmer because I need uniform length for the two shorter and longer frame pieces, which seemingly just happens without me really even knowing how.

Send Mensa.

Dry fit of the cuboid base is Good.

Dry fit of the cuboid top is Good.

Dry fit of the lid is Good.

Cut the ply floor, dry fit is Good.

Then things stopped being Good.  My usual flare for glass cutting deserted me like whales migrating to the south.  I must be tired.  Pack it in for the day.

Upstairs in the Reflectory, the phone flashes.  Three urgent messages from Theresa.  I am so unaccustomed to being … wanted that I now vow to have the phone in The Shop, from now on.

Last I heard from her was on Monday intimating that we could meet the client and test in situ the engineering mock up for form and fit.  Then silence.

Now, Friday afternoon, it’s all of a sudden can I be in Carmel, well, pretty much right now.

I can.

Shave my tongue and tuck in my forked tail, I pack up the mock-up, load up the wenge and fight the traffic over the hill on 68.

Nail a clutch parking spot centered between the client’s Poochie Psychiatry and Theresa’s studio.  Got to practice parallel parking, which I need, and slipped into the space with only two back-forwards.

Theresa seems impressed with the mock-up; the client less so.  So no immediate go-ahead on the sconce.  The client is right, the sconce deserves better than a low-ceiling bathroom in rented office space, and so the client vows to take the mock-up to her home and scout out likely locations.  We’re not dead yet.

Back at Theresa’s studio, we discuss two other potential gigs – one the removal and restoration of a massive 4’ x 6’ stained glass window somewhere out Carmel Valley, which would be a challenge just to get the thing intact out of the house; and two, the pentagonal lantern as a mutt memorial for another client.

And happy day, a visit across the parking lot to Wells Fargo.  I get an advance on the sconce, but it really isn’t – I put at least four hours into the mock-up and whatever engineering experience I embody into its structure.

The cash in my pocket felt like a happiness bank – it couldn’t have filled that hole at a better time.

FESTDAY –

As in Monterey History Fandango: open adobes, tours of the Presidio, military re-enactors…. although I ‘m not really sure why on Columbus Day weekend…

Figure parking on the Presidio is my best bet as in-town the tire chalkers are relentless I enforcing the 2 hour limit, and I know I’ll be longer.

It’s still overcast on the Presidio at the Civil War Era encampment and so I capture some muted-light shots of the inaction.

Crikey!  I’m late for the 1100 show at the Cathedral!

It’s a recounting of the history of the oldest structure in Monterey from the historian and archaeologist who supervised the years-long excavations and chapel renovation complete in 2011.

This diagram shows the overlay of the five Chapel Royale incarnations, and a cute grad student.

Dr. Ruben Mendoza is not only an expert on the Chapel Royale (as well as other Spanish and Mexican era churches) but he is engaging, well spoken, and sometimes humorous.  Plus, his cute grad student wasn’t hard to look at…

Even better to look at was a chart that overlaid the foundations of all five chapel incarnations.  And I’m standing on the history, out the door, under the floor, erase the windows, see the rude adobe, the flawed roof tiles, the defensive walls, the musket holes.  All this under my feet, and under my skin.

Next – The French Hotel, or as the denizens prefer, the Stephenson House.  I paid it more due than last month during Art in the Adobes, in part because the pile deserves the attention and I’d promised one of the City history maven’s I’d photograph the Fest Action with a view to improving the image repository for the City.

Next – Casa Serrano, which in my limited experience is the most historically resonant, most expertly restored – not too little / not too much – and has the best collection of mid-18^th Century furnishings.  Even got to hear the music box play.  It sounded horrible.

Next – back to the Presidio for more encampment soul stealing.  I notice a crowd over by the Serra Monument, better have a look.

Why, it’s the Ubermench of Monterey History, Dr. Dennis Copeland enthralling the masses.  I join in.  I’m enthralled too.

This monument to Junipero Serra – funded and insisted upon by Jane Stanford, Leland Stanfords handsome bride – sits smack over both the Spanish and Mexican era harbor defense.

We take in the site of the original Spanish, and later Mexican harbor defenses where too place the only land/sea battle ever on the west coast of North America, then troop up the hill to the remnants of Fort Mervine and the Sloat Monument, all the while Dennis is regaling the attentive cadre with the currents of history.  I was going to buy him a brew but he had another tour at 2:30

I’m to home and Laura is on the phone, thanks to The Professor who has recommended me, can I repair her table?

She arrives and it’s repairable, even by me.  It’s a three-legged 20^th century copy of an 18^th century style; well, I don’t know what the top looks like as Laura has only brought round the center spindle and the three legs.  Legs with dovetails that are designed to slip into and secure to matching cutouts in the spindle, but one of the spindle cutouts has worn so that the leg does no longer secure.

I figure to both glue and screw.  Deploy the Gorilla Glue and from underneath and at an angle screw into the spindle.

Five Minute Job.  Easy.  Won’t take long.

The curve of the legs makes trying to pre-drill and then screw almost impossible, so I drill through from the dovetail side.  All is well until I punch in screws too long – I forgot to take into account the threaded rod that apparently pierces nearly the entire spindle.

In retrospect, I should have NOT angle-drilled and used screws; I should have parallel drilled leg and spindle and used giant staples.

And glue up is freakish.  Due to the leg curves, just getting a band clamp to purchase is a study in Creative Clamp Engineering.

Still, if the monkey glue works its magic, the repair will be sound and I’ll have indeed earned the $40 fee.

Now, I can get back to the important, non-paying fun, which is the Cuboid Casket.

Unlike prior efforts where I didn’t mortise for the hinges until the box was built, and since I’m skeptical that the double 45’s have sufficient structural integrity once glued (I’ll be relying on monkey glue to beef up the structure as I’ll glue glass to wood) I mark out the mortises and chisel them before even the dry fit.

Wrongly, as it turned out.

Cut the glass I didn’t cut yesterslack and I am happy to report that my glass cutting mojo has returned, then dry fit the box.

Dry Fit Is Good.

Hinge Mortise Placement is Bad.

Workaround.  Instead of ‘hidden’ hinges, I’ll instead have mortised outside hinges.  The mortisii on the box we’ll let stand, but I’ll have to pare down the lid to remove traces of the WRONG placement, which I do.  I wanted a thinner lid anyway.

And that’s enough for this artisan, this day.  Must summon Tour Chi!

TOURDAY –

I’ve the 1030 and 1230 shows at The Lab.

I am overprepared and underprepared, rife with stage fright, but wearing an excellent neck tie.

I lug the Columbia portable phonograph along and happy day!  Robbie, who knows more about Ed Ricketts in her left ear lobe than I will ever know, has brought in some 78’s.  Early music just like Ed liked, Couperin, Scarlatti, Purcell.

78’s that belonged to John and Carol Steinbeck.  I’m dazzled.  The Scarlatti is actually TOO LOUD for The Lab, so I settle for the Couperin on harpsichord as the prelude music.

Post-mortem: the first tour went okay, no major faux pas; the second less so.  Missed some of my marks, got a date wrong in which I was corrected by one of the audience – at least he was paying attention.

And now for the climax of the day – taking in the 2:00 show led by the famous Susan Shillinglaw.

I wanted to admire and like her presentation.  I needed to admire and like it.

My hopes were shattered.

She leads off with her bone fides:

Scaled Mount Everest naked, no oxygen

Para-glided from Machu Picchu using only Saran wrap and drinking straws

Arm-wrestled the Minotaur to a draw while drunk on Shrove Thursday.

As if the presentation was a god damn job interview.

Now, you could posit that Jane Q. Tourist would find the self-extolment of Susan Shillinglaw gratifying as clearly here is an educated, erudite scholar whose  recitations are thus historically grounded.

But that’s not what the Ricketts and Steinbeck tourists want or need – if I may be so bold.  What they want is a light program of edutainment, biased toward the entertainment aspect as possibly 25 – 50% of the crowd have been dragged into The Lab by a significant other and would rather be on the links, at the bar, or in front of the idiot box.

And then Shillinglaw’s presentation, if we may term it that, got worse.

After her chest thumping, she pumps the crowd for questions: What do YOU want to cover?

Asking for questions from the audience is fine, but not right out the gate.  These people, who have never seen each other and are in a new, strange place, are naturally reticent.  In order to properly solicit participation amid a group setting, the interlocutor first must make the group comfortable, relaxed, get them to laugh a little bit, loosen up, cut the tension.

This Shillinglaw did not do.

And then it Got Even WORSE.

There are possibly six or seven hundred ways to lose an audience.

But surely in the Top Ten Best Ways To Lose An Audience are:

• Spraying them with a skunk
• Setting yourself on fire
• Not only picking your own nose, but picking the nose of someone in the audience,

And this may be in the Top Five:

• Pulling out a book and starting to read aloud.

I couldn’t fucking believe what I was witnessing.  She pulls out her just-off-the-presses book on Carol and John Steinbeck and commences to read aloud.

I wanted to run screaming from The Lab, but sat there, gobsmacked.  This isn’t a book tour; it is an introduction, for many of the audience, into The Lab and Ed Ricketts.

She fields a question, for which her answer is far too long and detailed, then Picks Up The Book And Starts Reading Aloud AGAIN!

I walked out.  I couldn’t freakin stand it anymore.

Home to Castle Slackton and the Cuboid Box.  Had to remake one of the box elements due to yesterslack’s dick-up in mortising the wrong edge.

This done, mortised the proper edge, both of the box and the lid, then glued the enterprise up.

Badly.  I need a new Monkey Glue procedure.  There’s just too much glue application which results in too much expansion spluge.  A call to MIT is put on hold as all the geniuses are off solving the Hobb’s Boson Wiggle Factor (It doesn’t really exist so we’ll make up some math only we can prove).

But the Burgermeister (Ed Ricketts brew of choice – always in the cooler across the street at Wing Chongs) is chilled, the grill is hot and I’m off the clock.