Hello folks,
Well, thankfully it's not Bubonic or Black, but it's still a plague.
April 10 has arrived, and the snow is finally melting. The temperature was actually above freezing this morning. I guess I'll call the hit-men and cancel the contracts for all the gophers in the vicinity. During the loooooong winter, I kept busy completing tasks that weren't weather dependent. To that end, I started building the cabinets. It's a fairly simple process—I had only a few boo boos that were easily remedied. Basically, make a box and then a face-plate. Of course, it helps to have a workshop with precision tools, the Kreg pocket hole jig, and lots of clamps (thank you Jim F). So today, I finished the doors. I have two cabinets remaining to be built, but I'll delay building those until I begin assembling the interior, specifically the bathroom vanity and the broom/coat closet.
With the warmer weather, I grabbed a few tools and completed a few tasks on the Airstream. The bolts holding the awning to the body were badly corroded. A little WD 40 later, I ratcheted them out. Good thing, too. The threads had begun crumbling. They were little more than 'super glue'. I replaced them with stainless steel nuts and bolts. That awning ain't never coming off.
When I was younger (OK, like 17) and doing crap carpentry, invariably a boss would say, "We're not making kitchen cabinets." In others words, hurry it up! Get that cut done! Tote that barge! Lift that bale! Well, the day has come when, yes, I was making kitchen cabinets. I took my time. The cabinets turned out better than anticipated. I even milled the oak for a custom fit. I know, I know, I shouldn't doubt myself but like most of this project, I had never built cabinets before. Precision is the key. Precision is all that matters. My wood mentor (Tommi) once said that the day would come when being out .5mm or 1/64 would be unacceptable. That is a good mantra to follow when making cabinets. It was actually a nifty challenge to strive for absolute accuracy. Sure, I'm out a 1000th here or there, but who's counting, right?
I have my doubts that there'll be any camping this summer. I don't think the Airstream would have been ready except as an aluminum tent. The C-19 plague will have us locked down longer than anticipated, is what I think. How are you doing? An unusual time, I think you'll agree. I've been listening to CBC (while building said cabinets). People are finding isolation difficult. I understand that. I lived alone for two years (just me and the dog) and I learned that solitude and loneliness are not the same. Self-isolation during this time isn't difficult for me, since I had an unintended time of training for the present scenario we find ourselves in. There's a lot of anxiety and fear out there. I feel for the folk who are in apartments with small kids—mine are grown and on their own; jobs lost; rent and mortgage stress. When I'm tempted to get anxious, I think about the trajectory of my dad's life. He was born two years into World War One, in Russia, of all places. When he was one, the Revolution happened. What a way to start life, right? My dad's family emigrated to Canada in the mid 1920s—no easy task, I'll tell you, especially with a guy like Stalin in charge. They nearly didn't make it. Dad was a teenager during the Great Depression. He lived through World War Two. If he ever had any anxiety about anything, I never saw it. He didn't talk much about his past but his example lives on.
Take care, out there. We hope to see you on the road, someday.
Well, thankfully it's not Bubonic or Black, but it's still a plague.
April 10 has arrived, and the snow is finally melting. The temperature was actually above freezing this morning. I guess I'll call the hit-men and cancel the contracts for all the gophers in the vicinity. During the loooooong winter, I kept busy completing tasks that weren't weather dependent. To that end, I started building the cabinets. It's a fairly simple process—I had only a few boo boos that were easily remedied. Basically, make a box and then a face-plate. Of course, it helps to have a workshop with precision tools, the Kreg pocket hole jig, and lots of clamps (thank you Jim F). So today, I finished the doors. I have two cabinets remaining to be built, but I'll delay building those until I begin assembling the interior, specifically the bathroom vanity and the broom/coat closet.
With the warmer weather, I grabbed a few tools and completed a few tasks on the Airstream. The bolts holding the awning to the body were badly corroded. A little WD 40 later, I ratcheted them out. Good thing, too. The threads had begun crumbling. They were little more than 'super glue'. I replaced them with stainless steel nuts and bolts. That awning ain't never coming off.
When I was younger (OK, like 17) and doing crap carpentry, invariably a boss would say, "We're not making kitchen cabinets." In others words, hurry it up! Get that cut done! Tote that barge! Lift that bale! Well, the day has come when, yes, I was making kitchen cabinets. I took my time. The cabinets turned out better than anticipated. I even milled the oak for a custom fit. I know, I know, I shouldn't doubt myself but like most of this project, I had never built cabinets before. Precision is the key. Precision is all that matters. My wood mentor (Tommi) once said that the day would come when being out .5mm or 1/64 would be unacceptable. That is a good mantra to follow when making cabinets. It was actually a nifty challenge to strive for absolute accuracy. Sure, I'm out a 1000th here or there, but who's counting, right?
I have my doubts that there'll be any camping this summer. I don't think the Airstream would have been ready except as an aluminum tent. The C-19 plague will have us locked down longer than anticipated, is what I think. How are you doing? An unusual time, I think you'll agree. I've been listening to CBC (while building said cabinets). People are finding isolation difficult. I understand that. I lived alone for two years (just me and the dog) and I learned that solitude and loneliness are not the same. Self-isolation during this time isn't difficult for me, since I had an unintended time of training for the present scenario we find ourselves in. There's a lot of anxiety and fear out there. I feel for the folk who are in apartments with small kids—mine are grown and on their own; jobs lost; rent and mortgage stress. When I'm tempted to get anxious, I think about the trajectory of my dad's life. He was born two years into World War One, in Russia, of all places. When he was one, the Revolution happened. What a way to start life, right? My dad's family emigrated to Canada in the mid 1920s—no easy task, I'll tell you, especially with a guy like Stalin in charge. They nearly didn't make it. Dad was a teenager during the Great Depression. He lived through World War Two. If he ever had any anxiety about anything, I never saw it. He didn't talk much about his past but his example lives on.
Take care, out there. We hope to see you on the road, someday.
 |
| More winter? Not so happy. |
 |
| Gluing face of cabinet to the carcass |
 |
| The basic idea (expect for the grain mix-up. Might be fixing that before installation...) |
 |
| Airstream cabinet Tetris. |
 |
| Crappy corroded ancient galvanized screws |
 |
| Snappy brand new stainless steel bolts and nuts. |
 |
| Enough caulking to deny even the most tenacious drop of water. |
No comments:
Post a Comment