Happines...Is a Warm Scarf

Conjugate the verb to knit.  I knit.  I knitted.  I have knitted.  You knit.  You knitted.  You have knitted. He knits...well, the rest is redundant.  To knit: a regular verb, but it's a flexible word.  When I broke my collar bone in seventh grade, the doctor did not have to set it; he said it would "knit" itself.  My mother is a knitter as well as my aunt.  It was an odd image in my seventh-grade mind that my bones were performing the same activity as my mother and aunt.  Watching them knit was always like imagining them as spiders...nice spiders who would regularly pull a length of yarn from a skein nestled in a bag covered in a tapestry print that opened like a canvas deck chair, point two sticks at each other, and magically produce a length of sock, scarf, or sweater with the twist of fingers in a coordinated, magical sign language. 

The language of knitting is simple:  knit and purl, cast on and cast off.  With these basic incantations the knitter spells the hands into movement.  I've never known a knitter to watch his or her hands while involved in the work of knitting.  My mother knitted while watching soap operas; my aunt would knit while talking to others.  My sister knits to relax. 

When children are born in our family, or when people marry into the family, they receive a knitted Christmas sock made by my aunt.  Each sock is unique, and each has the owner's name knitted clearly around the sock's top.  We are a well-knitted family; bones that have cracked, knit, healed, become stronger.  My sock, now nearly fifty years old, has held pounds of toys, candy, fruit, and its single strand of yarn has held up all this time.

So when my sister, who also knits like a possessed woman in a fairy tale, wonders why I ask her for a hand-knitted scarf for my birthday, I tell her I'd simply like a scarf.  What she doesn't know is that each time I wrap that around my neck and tuck my ears and nose in the wool, I feel that each strand will continue to hold me up, that the knitting has truly healed and made the bond stronger. 

One For The Boys

I've always been a fan of the underdog.  There's just something about overcoming the Goliath that stands in ones path that's inspiring.  Perhaps it's due to the fact that, while growing up with classes both ahead and behind mine that won most of the time, my friends and I weren't so lucky with coming out ahead.  But we won, eventually; we stayed together as a class, and although we weren't the greatest, we conquered a few giants along the way. 

Tonight I watched my son's basketball team overcome one of the giants that had come to town.  Confident in its 8-0 league record (actually the team is still in a probationary period, but that doesn't mean it doesn't count to the players) the players were unusually more vocal with the pre-game posturing and banter that goes along with competitive athletics.  They had come to "eat" up the home team.  The metaphor, as my son spoke to me of the gibes back and forth in the hallway prior to the game, lost little in my imagination.  I saw Cronus chewing up and swallowing his children - his pride rampant now,  vicious and selfish. 

But pride does consume, and tonight Goliath, like a trapped coyote gnawing its own leg to release itself, became hobbled with self-confidence which had fed upon itself.  The underdogs, in no way unprepared for battle, patiently waited for Goliath's weaknesses to show themselves.  They were, as the adage goes, "in the hunt" throughout the game, and it was only too late that Goliath found himself having to hurry.  In hurrying he made mistakes; that's when the underdogs struck!

So tonight my hat is tipped to the team that finds its way to win - Chip, Keaton, Will, Eric, Justin, Tommy, Tyler, Kyle, Mason, Chris, Luke and Luke!  You're finding a rhythm that's making great time!

At Home This Year

I'm missing friends this first full weekend of February.  For the past ten years I've been setting up my trade shop at the Kansas Muzzleloader's Association annual convention - at first in Great Bend, for a while in Hutchinson, and, for the first time, in Topeka.  My interest in living history has never waned - I'll return to convention and events at some point, but my appreciation for my family and some family events is primary this year. 

I have three more opportunities to watch my son play basketball, and I'm not going to miss any moment of those games.  It was pure pleasure to watch my niece perform in her play and to attend her birthday party today.  And I had the chance to spend the evening with my nephew - now a lawyer and a fiance to a soon-to-be deputy district attorney- to celebrate his birthday.  I don't feel I've missed much by not attending convention this year. 

Besides, I didn't abandon my friends at the convention...I made some benches for them to raffle and help keep the organization going. 

I have been making these "traveling" benches for a while now.  They're simply made; it's just a bit of sweat equity.  With a drawknife, spokeshave, tapered reamer and cutter, and plane, the bench top is planed and the legs are friction fit and can be tapped out easily so the bench breaks down for easy hauling.  I believe the above benches are numbers 32 and 33. 

Just Off Broadway Talent

What a busy day! But what a wonderful evening watching my niece in a performance of "Annie!"  A group of middle school students made the musical alive once more on the stage; it was well executed, very well timed, the music (by some very mature-sounding voices) never dragged, it was on pitch, and everyone smiled as they sang.  What fun these students had! 

These kids should feel extremely proud; this performance outdid many high school and college-level performances.  And one special performance made the evening for me - way to go C!  You go girl! You were great!

Card-Carrying Member

Getting my hair cut by my wife - Having my wife cut my hair has to be the most relaxing experience I enjoy.  It's truly sad that I only need my hair trimmed every three or four weeks because if I could I would have her cut my hair every day.  Now not to sound too creepy, but there's just something very, very soothing about my wife's hands running through my hair...I can literally fall asleep when she's cutting my hair. 

Getting fitted for a suit - Every man should experience being fitted for a suit at least once in his life.  There's too much off-the-shelf, fast-food mentality for buying clothing.  There's little quality, and very few sales "associates" even know how to say hello let alone know their product.  Shoe stores are the worst - just try finding a foot fitting/measuring scale or someone who knows how to use one.  Know your size and how to fit yourself or walk around with sore feet.  Now for clothes there are a few holdouts.  Recently I got a great deal on a couple of suits from a well-known men's clothing retailer, and I visited the store for my fitting.  (Of course, most of their clothing needs to be fitted to the individual; it's nothing like the experience of having a bespoke suit made - something that is on my bucket list.) Being fitted is still an experience that makes one feel as if he's suddenly got the full attention of the "tailor."  The fitting area is intimate; tucked away from the rows of dovetailed ties and Egyptian cotton shirts, the accoutrements are simple:  mirrors, measuring tapes, soap-like slivers of marking chalk, and cuff templates.  It's suddenly you and the tailor; someone who knows exactly how you want the suit to look on you.  Yup, with a few tugs, some pins, the tailor adjusts sleeves on the arms, adjusts the back and legs of the trousers; suddenly the look of your posture changes...you see the suit for the first time.  If I could just get my hair cut...

Getting my AARP card in the mail...sucks.

A Day Off?...I Think Not!

Why do driveways seem so much larger when I'm scraping snow from them?

That was the question of the day for me.  Where it shouldn't have drifted in my mother's driveway - it did.  So Nancy and I tag-teamed her driveway this morning...later this afternoon I finally tackled ours as well as the walk which has a southeast face and had received an abundance of drifting snow!  But I cleared everything off that needed it; the rest shall melt as it wants. 

Since we were off (again) today, I was able to spend a bit more time in the shop. 

Roughing out the mortises and tenons for the back of the Morris Chair project.  The tenons above just need a bit more chisel work and they'll be ready.

Ah, the work of the chisel.  (Yes, I have it clamped for those who will understand why!) there is just nothing quite as enjoyable as cleaning out a mortice with a sharp chisel.  The wood just shaves away in paper-like pieces for an exacting fit. 

A bit closer look at the work.  I sharpen each chisel on two different Japanese water stones - 2000 and 5000 grits.  They must be wet, and the movement is a figure-eight.  One can feel the bevel, and then it just becomes a fluid movement...very relaxing and very important if one wants to make the clean up work to be effortless. 

So yesterday and today offered a great opportunity to complete the chair base.  Everything mortise and tenoned...the arms are glued, screwed, and pinned with some bloodwood dowels.

Once I apply the finish these pins will add a nice bit of nuance to the chair and highlight the joints. 

So after an afternoon of chisels and glue I get the back, which will swivel on arbor vitae dowels, gets glued after some initial sanding.  I hate this part of a project: I'm so close to being done with the build that I want to hurry it.  This is when it's a good time to call it a day and let things relax.  The chair will be better for it, and I'll like the final project more when I have a chance to review what steps I went through today and what needs to happen next.  Luckily, I have a helper with this.

So good to have an inspector on site who can not only watch the work, but also constantly approve of my excellent work!  She's ready for a jaunt in the snow!  I guess it's back to the work of teaching tomorrow!

Cold Nights Redux

Largest winter storm that I can remember in a while.

Best winter storm...1971 March.  We had gone to church that morning, and for some reason my mother decided to drive (we lived a block from the church and usually walked).  During Sunday School it began snowing lightly; an hour later when church began, the snow fell heavily.  By the time we left church and drove home, our Pontiac station wagon got high centered in the driveway!  We were out of school for three days - unheard of in my memory.

My dad had been working that Sunday and had to stay with an employee in Wichita for two days.  My sisters and I enjoyed the "hill" of snow that the bulldozer pushed to the middle of the block from both intersections.  It appeared an immense hill for play; I'm sure it was only eight to ten feet tall.  Mom made cinnamon rolls, and Mrs. White at the end of the block had a baby at her house - the ambulance became stuck and the medics had to walk to the house.

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Updates on the projects tomorrow!