Once more into the breach dear friends, once more.
You might have noticed, at least those of you who check regularly, that I have withheld posting for a while. Not as serious as withholding sex, but we're not having any of that, so withholding blogging is the next best thing, right? But see, that's where it all falls apart--none of this was your fault. You guys are just as innocent as me, it was a failure on behalf of the kind folks that supply me this spot to rant and rave, and as such, and TANSTAFFL being what it is, I really can't complain. It's a free service, so I have to expect problems with it. If I were paying for it I'd have more of a right to whine and throw temper tantrums like I've been doing, but at least I'd have some solid backing to fall...well...back on.
It's been an interesting couple of days, and as I always do I was posting in my head even while I had no time nor desire to return here and see if this damned place was working or not. Grief notwithstanding, I was still gamely plugging along, thinking of things I might like to say here.
Naturally, I've forgotten them all.
I finally got to spend some time in the shop. After a Saturday morning where nothing seemed destined to go right I found myself in my local Hobby Lobby store, where plastic plants were on sale. I bought a sprig of orchids for "about three fi'ty," and using some bamboo and a few simple tools I turned out what I think is a rather fetching little addition to the Tiki Room, which is an old thing to most of you, but to those of you who haven't seen it, it's our spare bedroom gone horribly, terribly wrong. Christopher Lowell stand back.
My dear daughter the Vulgar Wizard had brought a catalog of home stuff to work a few days ago, and was showing me some things online at Target.com that she wants for her wedding shower/house grand opening. See, her and the fiancee' are building a house, and my dear surrogate daughter is the sort of organised person who has all her colours, textures, fabrics, all planned out, so that won't be a big hassle when the house is a big blank white canvas for her to work in. So anyway, she was showing me these little knick-knack shelves and things online and in this catalog, and they were all made of MDF (that's medium density fiberboard, or particle board to the uninitiated) and painted colours like flat black and satin white to hide the fact that they were made of sawdust and glue, and I kept telling her "You know, I could make that for you with scraps" and "Damn, they want $XX.XX for THAT? I could do it for $.XX" and the like.
Naturally I decided that after all that bragging I had to put my table saw where my mouth was, or something like that, and started turning out some little house things. It's been interesting, and quite theraputic. Inbetween bouts of laundry and lunch I've been in the shop more than ever before, cutting and gluing and routing and clamping, and have been having a grand old time of it. Today I find that I'm gonna have to get to Lowe's and price some oak, so I can do a pair of knick-knack shelves for the dear wife, so we can attractively display her snow-globe collection. I can't wait! Sawdust! Noise! Rats carrying off scraps of lumber for their own twisted projects! The joys of my shop.
It's looking nice outside. First thing this am it was awfully foggy, but the mist has already mostly gone, and the sky looks beautifully clear. I dreamed last night of fishing, or at least boating, but I don't think that's going to happen today, unfortunately. I've been wanting to get out quite bad here of late, but opportunity has not arisen. The shop is closer, too, which makes working out there a lot easier.
Beethoven is playing on the media player--the Moonlight Sonata, #14. Utterly beautiful. I have a recording of it where it is played presto agitato, but I find that I can't bear it that way. Slow, stately, that's the way to play it. The problem with that is that I have watched so many episodes of Discovery Wings, specifically "Wings of the Luftwaffe" that every time I hear it now I keep seeing Me-111s bombing cities and Komets and Schwalbes racing through ranks of Allied aircraft, shooting them to pieces.
Ah, the shop calls. Ciao.