Off day from the rike, yesterslack’s 35 minute effort seemed felicitatious to man and goy, yet the left foot was somewhat troubling of this morning.  So off day it was.  Pity that.  There’s no more time for not working out.

On day in The Shop, where instead of framing the bottom edge of the Scoptics  top box, got involved with making the inner floor side wings.

Badly, as it turned out, but this type of joint needs practice.  I’m gaining on it.  Laugh if you must.

Now that the ends of the inner floor are ready, I can fit the floor appurtenances that will secure the scope.  Using the sloped lower edge of the looking-into end, I slashed a slice of maple at the compensatory 23 degrees, then lashed this to the floor.  Then I located the position of three dowels which, when in place, will removably secure the scope side-to-side and front-to-back.

Just then, The Prof arrives, wanted to look over my hack that allows the workbench to roll about when desired, but sit on the shop floor when not racing it in the Pinewood Derby.  He’s just bought a workbench from Harbor Freight and wants the mobility for his new best shop friend.  I show him, it’s just like hanging a door; but I also advised him about the end-to-end flop fail.  All at no-to-low charge.

CHANGEDAY –

At last!  I dream that I need not feel – at 0630 – that I am late to the job because I know that I don’t work there anymore.

Desktop boots in a way insalubrious, but doesn’t recognize the spontoon hard drive.  Wha?

Work The Rike far too much, I fear.  Spazames in hip, shoulder and foot.  Nothing for it but to play hurt.  I need the output, and still, amid the strain, the legs want to run.

Aires’s, run over to Trader Brews for to provision for this weekend’s south jaunt to LA.  Want cold ones in the cooler on the run.

To The Monterey State Historical Park where I hope to cadge out of Michael Green some G2 on Hearst Castle, but nothing doing.  Nobody there.  Cased the Customs House and Pacific House.  It’s 1100.  Wha?

Toward my own House of Customs for cave man lunch, then down the ice tube to The Shop where the ensuing hours were sparkled with FAIL.

Amid, now the desktop DOES compute the off-shore hard drive.  Demons.

Job One, I thought, was to craft the trim for the bottom of the Scoptics bottom box; and I did, and it was fine.

What next occurred was FAIL.  Set up the router to round over the trim.  And round over it it did; except I rounded over the precise opposite edges.

This mandated cutting off the rounded over bits – which rendered the trim perhaps just a bit more aesthetically suitable then they may have been otherwise, but that’s cheating –

Now rounded over – tough to clamp

Clamp, upside down

Try another clamp

Clamp, nail not so good.

Fix, sort of.

Mix up Wildman’s concoction: equal parts urethane, tung, turp and with a dash of japan drier.

Just then, The Prof.

Lag is unconfined.

The Wind – winter, Summer’s over, no?

First turtleneck of the season

THURSDAY –

Harvey insists that I sign a document prohibiting me from parking in the Singing Hills garage, even though I know not what transgression committed I have.   Furthermore, he threatens to block me from the drive, which is a hollow curse since the approach to the garage is already clogged with …. distant relations and their RV’s….?

1100 rendezvous with Theresa Buccola in Carmel, she’s the art glass designer with a gallery, and big plans.

It seems I misjudged her about being manic.  She is high-strung, but what I sensed as ditz was only her expression of frustration with woodworkers recently engaged.

She’s frank, which I like, she wants no-bullshit, with which I agree, and yearns for honest product estimates (often before the design is finalized, that I can accommodate) and has more work for me should I prove my merit.  I couldn’t have asked for a better opportunity.

To cases.

I’m engaged, I think,  in a probationary project – build a Sconce, a bathroom light fixture.  Actually, just the wood part, she’ll make the glass inserts.

We troop south on San Carlos a block to the business of the potential client who wishes to replace a tatty $20 fixture with whatever it is that Theresa cooks up.  The business?  Wait for it …. I expected Woody Allen to pop up from behind the dog bed, the client’s business is Dog Psychologist.

Like the good Tradesman I will never be, I stifle my snark, fake measuring the fixture because I forgot to bring along a rule, and play along with Theresa who’s on the upsell for a sort of removable vanity to go around the bathroom sink.

We return to her gallery and brainstorm on designs.  There are three that emerge:

Simple – a rectangular box, open to the bottom with glass top, front and sides.

Range Hood – an awning shaped, fan winged, complex structure with seven panes of glass

Inspired – a rectangular box, open at the bottom but with naked glass edge on the bottom surfaces.

I think she’ll opt for the Inspired, and without much else to go on, quote her $400 for the wood frame.  Apparently she can command such prices as that number posed no problem.

One other item of note, I ask if she’s originally from Carmel. No, New Jersey.  Oh, where?

Wait for it.

Freehold.

Freehold, where just a mile east of town I came to my first memories in Harrison Acres out the Colt’s Neck Road.

I do hope that I left a positive impression, but no matter what, the best impression I can possible leave is the light frame crafted to her satisfaction, which awaits her finalizing on a design and making the glass.

I make like a real guy and drive home over the hill where after the usual cave man lunch of olives, scum chee and chicken, fire walk to The Shop where the Scoptics Box awaits.  Awaits me putting in the hanger bolts to the insert so that I can drill out the holes through the box lid.  This done, another coat of Wildman’s Shiney Elixir of urethane, turpentine and tung oil.

Now what?

What: Should I pass muster on the bathroom light for Theresa, the next job – if there is a next job – will be to make one of these.

All the joints are double 45’s – yikes!

Note the joints.  It’s the meeting of three chisel points.  I’ve never made a joint like this, and for what seems to me good reason – although aesthetically pleasing it is structurally weak.

Nothing for it but to try.  And I get to use the new miter trimmer!

Lam out some junk, scratch my ‘nads, look at it for a while, then pitch in and cut the meet surfaces.

Great, even roughly, the joint looks OK for a half-hearted try, but how in blazes do you glue the thing?

These double 45 joints want to slide past each other.

I scratch some more, walk away, look out at the view, petition the Gods, scratch again, but no epiphany.  Gluing two of the three is a Can Do, but how to glue in the third leg?

I donnn’t knnoooww, but I try what seems to be a technique, send MacArthur Grant Geniuses.