Everyone Leaves in the End

I think about death pretty often.  My own, mostly.  It intrigues me, in a way.  I certainly do not fear death.  Why waste the energy worrying about something that will absolutely, with one hundred percent certainty, happen to each and every one of us?  Those who are scared of dying have something to hide.

And when I die, what will I leave behind?  My clothes, my shoes, the stuff in that one drawer I keep locked: I doubt those things will last much beyond my natural life.  But the work of my hands: who knows?  Through the motise, tenon, dovetail and dado, I may live forever.


And, if I can, I shall haunt you from my Tuscan Red coffin.

At least until the collapse of civilization, in which case all would be turned to firewood anyway.


First Church of Christ, Cabinetmaker

For some time now, I’ve had a silly little fantasy. I’d start my own church: the First Church of Christ, Cabinetmaker. We’d meet on Saturday afternoons and glory in the making of things. From the crotchety handtoolers to the hipster CNC’rs, and everyone in between, all would be welcome. 

The Jesus part would be optional, of course. I am Catholic, after all. The only mandatory worship would be at the sharpening stone.  We’d observe only the greatest commandment: do your best not to be a dickbag, at least not all the time.  And don’t borrow tools without asking. 

Any early converts?


Saw Till, Part Deux

I should have mentioned it in my previous post, but it is no accident the new saw till is made from 3/4″ pine.  I didn’t want to waste time and materials on a hardwood version until I confirm it worked within the space.  And working within the space seems to be the most important part of the Dutch tool chest.


Next up: red oak.

The saw till debacle brings up a larger point about the importance of spacing.  I did not measure my own chisel handles (Narex, which are about 1 3/8″ wide) before spacing the 1/2″ holes in the tool rack.  I took Chris Schwarz at face value on the 1 1/8″ spacing, and I have since suffered for it.  My chisels only fit the rack when turned 90°.  Live and learn.


What proper spacing looks like.  

The lesson is this: trust, but verify.


Alone with My Thoughts

At my workbench, alone with my thoughts, I hew and shape, my vision translated to being.

But corners are cut and compromises made, as sacrifices to the constraints of time and space.

Though none would be the wiser, a portion of my dream gets cast aside like shavings from the plane.

And so I scream at the abyss, the work of my hands to outlast me and my vanity.

I make, but am not jealous of the thing, moving always to a new task.


Finding beauty, in unexpected places.

A poem, by The Apartment Woodworker.

How to Finish with Shellac

I have little experience with finishes that aren’t Milk Paint or Danish Oil.  It’s a shortcoming; I know.  But I’ve been experimenting with shellac finish on the little box I made.  Here is, as near as I can tell, a fail-safe process for finishing a project with Shellac.

Step 1:  Brush on coat of sanding sealer, then sand with 220 grit sandpaper when dry.

Step 2:  Apply 2-5 coats of shellac, thinned to approximately 50-50 with denatured alcohol, sanding with 220 grit sand paper between coats.

Step 3:  Agonize over puddling and corning and consider throwing entire project away.

Step 4:  Remove shellac with denatured alcohol and paint entire project with milk paint in shame.

Step 5:  Lock project away in closet never to be seen again.

Has anyone had a similar experience?


Merry Christmas and Whatnot (2016)

It’s Christmas, again. Happens every year, just about this time. 

Here at The Apartment Woodworker, I’m excited for my next mini project: another interlocking plant stand to match the original. 

Solid as a rock.

They are fun to make and involve two of the three basic joints (mortise and tenon; lap joint [a form of housing joint]). Best of all, they make use of some extra whitewood stud offcuts. 

The best use of a leftover 45″ offcut I can find.

I hope everyone has a happy and healthy holiday. 


I Think I Figured It Out (Thank You!)

Thanks to everyone who gave me suggestions about why a leg wasn’t seated squarely in its joint.  After quadruple checking my combination square for squareness (it is), it turns out the culprit was human error.

First, the shoulder isn’t perfectly seated after all.  The mortise canted ever so slightly inward, but the toothed underside of the benchtop hid the minute gap between the slab and the shoulder of the mortise.  I corrected  this (with a bit of paring inside the mortise) and the joint still (thankfully) fits very snugly.  The canted mortise was about 75% of the problem.

Second, there is a very slight hollow where I was resting my square.  It must be left over from traversing the underside of the benchtop.  It runs down a couple thou toward the mortise, which doesn’t really show with a long straightedge across the whole width.  But with a small machinist’s square, it’s plain as day.  Not worth fussing over, I think.

Oh well.  At least I got blog two posts out of it.



Slippery Slope

I’ve been watching a ton of New Yankee Workshop lately. Norm Abram is the Bob Ross of woodworking; and Christopher Schwarz is right: Norm is hilarious. Roman Ogee, not Roman Orgy. Lolz. 

It’s gotten me thinking though: what if I had Norm’s signature tool, a radial arm saw?  It goes against everything I believe in (not really).  But I do have a double bevel compound miter saw, so would halflaps on that be any slower or worse than doing it by hand?  Probably not, and as long as I cut the shoulder by hand (so I knew it was perfectly square), wouldn’t hogging out the waste by power tool be okay?  I already use a thickness planer on boards I made S2S by hand. 

This will need paring with both a chisel and a router plane.

I’ll give it a try and see how slippery the slope really is. 


Lock and Load

I’ve been rapid fire finishing smaller projects, in the hope of clearing out some space in the shop. 

First, I finished (literally and figuratively) my travel-size tool chest. It’s not a coffin. 

But I would be okay being buried in it.

Then, I completed the first of two Japanese saw horses. The second one is in process, and I will probably make two more in short order. 

I will skip the bevel on the feet next time.

Next, the rolling cart for my new Craftsman tool chest went together rather easily. It’s solid, if unspectacular.

I plan to add a saw till under the lid with rare earth magnets.

Finally, a hanging corner shelf for my bedroom was an exercise in directional planing. After some espresso stain, it may become an upcoming Basic Project.

I’ve never had studs to screw into before.

There are a few other things to clear out as well, but nothing woodworking related.  The shop feels less cluttered, at least. 


Crippling Self-doubt

Woodworking has been a struggle, lately.  I’m at a point where I need my thickness planer to progress any further into several projects, and it’s just so far away.  The dovetailed carcase for the new traveling tool chest is filled to the brim with S2S versions of its remaining pieces (among other boards).   I just need to pass them through the magic lunchbox and get on with it.  That’s on the agenda for the holiday weekend, also.


It’s slightly morbid, when you really think about it.

But I still wonder if I’m going about this all wrong.  The size of the new tool chest seems right, but do I really need a full dust seal around the lid?  Won’t oak battens work just fine?  But that would waste a couple board feet of quarter-sawn white pine.  I guess I can use it for french fitting dividers.

It goes on and on.  These types of questions gnaw at me constantly.  I’ve only been woodworking for about 4 years, less than three with hand tools.  What the hell do I know?

Then, every now and again, I get some reaffirmation.  On my new workbench, I organically came to the same conclusion as a previous craftsman, making the front left leg larger than the other three, allowing for a larger tenon at the joint that incurs the most stress.  And speaking of tool chests, a woodworker with credentials beyond my own seems to work out of a chest that looks an awful lot like my first attempt at a traveling tool chest.


A size comparison.  Please ignore the soft backlight from the patio door.

I don’t crave the approval of others.  But I, like everyone else, need some confirmation once in a while that I’m not totally off base.  And that confirmation keeps the crippling self-doubt at bay for another week or two.