So I check out this rag from the states, something called "Fine Woodworking" and I think to myself. "These dudes sure debate shit a lot. Like how the feck do you worry about your fence being acurate to a thou of an inch when you live at the coast and you spend more time with cobra on your saw-table than on furniture? Or the wedge under your bench on the uneven floor moved just as you forced that chisel over a knot and now the inside of the joint no-one will see has a frigging gash in it assisted by a wobbly bench? Such is life.
I am meandering and getting myself in a state here. Anyways, I was reading this book about workbenches and such (Yes, I was on my back at the time theorising about how I would show them a thing or two). Man, those dudes sure have a lot of time. So here I get the oppurtunity to do it all. The frenzy of moving a total workshop from a supportive wife's home into a newly built shop over a December holiday. The walnut burl veneers for the tool cupboards are still in their box as are the resolutions to have this impeccable pace to meditate and go "Ohm" when stuff gets too much. I discovered the middle road. Instead of tools on the floor, I can put them in shelves and such made from gluelam shelving. Smoking quietly and surveying this dissaray, I tell myself I am saving the planet because my boxes are not robbed from Brazilian rain-forests and the square-drive screws embellish the sides of otherwise overjointed looking boards.
I managed to get the Robland from my shop to my workshop by 08h30 one morning on my own in a fit of sheer determination and stupidity...he he. Bloody thing takes up half my floor but makes me look kind of professional and it fools people into thinking I must be some kind of serious woodworker. So my lathe still has to get here and I have a pile of tools waiting for their homes and I still cant see the light. So what? I have a gorgeous wife and some truly great friends and a garage with potential and I am sure if I pack for another few years, I will get there.
Its 2:30 in the morning and I am going to cackle wildly in sheer exhaustion soon, this the plight of the disturbed.
Work safe and may your shavings float sweetly.
Thousandth of an inch
Glad you brought up the subject of thousandth of an inch. I've always wondered how them Yanks fit that into this game we play. Lo and behold, I think you have finally given me an answer. It must have something to do with the thickness of that wax you are putting on the machines. " Er, today I waxed my Robland to a thickness of 2 thou's."
Brainwave. You can always stick the walnut veneer onto the gluelam boards when you've run out of things to do. Just make sure you don't cover them gleaming square drives. I have a neat little hole punch you can borrow. If all else fails you can just give the veneers to me. Heh, Heh.
HUH?
You fool....I love you. He mutters under his breath..."I love my veneers more though."