I spend enough time on the road or away from Kansas City that while I’m here, I want to do something that I can’t do on the road. My wood shop in the basement is as good and important kind of therapy for the psyche as my early morning swim routine. I have been in Missouri now for about two months and it’s almost time to leave again. I need to wrap up the table I’ve been working on. I have critics who needle me, “Aren’t you finished yet?” I have to remind them that the wood for the project had been waiting patiently in the rack in the basement for over five years. I’ve only been sawing, sanding and waiting for glue to dry for a couple of months so it feels like Mach 2 to me.
My (in progress) kitchen table is starting to look like a table. But since there are no plans other than in my mind, when a problem reveals itself that wasn’t anticipated I have to let it cook on a back burner until I have a flash of insight or a slow cooked solution emerges. I had a flash yesterday and there are a couple of wrinkles, slow cooking on the back burner but I’ll be in Louisiana for Thanksgiving and I need to spend some serious time on the table before I go.
I have a source for quality Cypress lumber in a little town southeast of Jackson, Mississippi and I’ll be stopping there on the way back. Buying Cypress has become sort of addictive and it’s hard to drive by without loading up the back of the truck. The toughness and durability of the wood is matched by ease of working it and its sheer beauty.
It will be several months before I get back to my wood shop so I need to get this sawdust appetite abated. I should be in the basement now instead of typing away upstairs. But that’s an addiction too and they all need to be fed.
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