tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86724298265612589852024-03-13T13:43:38.348-05:00Inside the Oldwolf Workshop StudioI make art and there are no apologies for that life. Sometimes I make from wood. Sometimes I make in paper, ink, and watercolor. Sometimes I steer this ship right off the edge of the map. It's turtles all the way down. Derek Olson (Oldwolf)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17266838091596906383noreply@blogger.comBlogger526125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8672429826561258985.post-14883909839499411802022-12-26T19:08:00.000-06:002022-12-26T19:08:10.405-06:00My Leap Of Faith.<p> Hi guys! Remember me? </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG6vVBAh86mndVeq61yyyNrA5qICcYnQ4neX2u7ZmNZcqDkizwiaKqKCQHbsIiMk6oLZUpYXO1dd_kzdqKO8DsOBqKyKLUeh-TgtwKokGSXBBFDIh1Lhd8roUWGcbK6zMjqxigjRwNZCqb3khaA5tK6f_pDL6szZ1DBq0rF3qEhReG3q4Lrw4DjF37/s2192/4F6BB8E7-3AD3-46FA-ADB8-D67437E02560.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2192" data-original-width="2192" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG6vVBAh86mndVeq61yyyNrA5qICcYnQ4neX2u7ZmNZcqDkizwiaKqKCQHbsIiMk6oLZUpYXO1dd_kzdqKO8DsOBqKyKLUeh-TgtwKokGSXBBFDIh1Lhd8roUWGcbK6zMjqxigjRwNZCqb3khaA5tK6f_pDL6szZ1DBq0rF3qEhReG3q4Lrw4DjF37/s320/4F6BB8E7-3AD3-46FA-ADB8-D67437E02560.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><p>This post is an end AND this post is a beginning. </p><p>I have chosen to call an end to this Blog, It will stay here - but I won't be adding much to it if anything ever again. (Sounds of great wailings and the gnashing of teeth!!) This is my chance to thank everyone who has supported me here. From a beginning as a lonely place created to practice writing, to an place of pride and great personal accomplishment to a quiet, abandoned asylum haunted only by occasional ghosts of activity. This tiny space I created on the web has seen an entire story arc. Comedy and Tragedy. </p><p>But please, please don't say good bye, because I've started a new endeavor. </p><p>Inspired by Chris Schwarz (and when am I not) I've decided to sent up a new house for my particular brand of bullshit over on Substack. The platform is interesting to me in that it has answers for some of my frustrations about blogging here on my originally chosen platform "Blogger" and carries other options for the future. The new platform is titled "My Love Letter to Good Hours"</p><p>Yes I know, its considered a Pay for Play platform, The Vast Vast majority of my posts there will be free. Feel free to support me there if you choose, but as I'm just figuring it out, I can't in good faith recommend it right now. </p><p>BUT</p><p>Getting to the point with the big question.... Why? </p><p>The baggage of this blog is I've always tried to keep it a pure woodworking blog. To that point every other creative endeavor I work on has required it's own space, it's own Instagram Feed. It's own blog. It's own domain name and it's own existence. It's an exhausting thing, so I've searched for a way to tie all the clowns under the same tentpole. </p><p>A fresh start. A fresh courtship with writing and sharing about the things I never stopped making. All the things I enjoy making. A reason to write Love Letters to the Reasons and the Passions in my life. </p><p>So this is my invitation. Come and visit at my new house warming party. Sign up as a subscriber, the posts will come to your email address. I can attest I intend for the vast majority of the posts to be free to any subscriber. The only things I intend to hold back are measured drawings and plans, some fictional writing and maybe podcasts. It's fluid, but at the very least. Follow over or not... this is my humble invitation to you and if this is where we part. I still thank you very much for the time and attention. Well met. </p><p>Ratione et Passionis </p><p>Oldwolf (for the last time) </p><p><br /></p><p>My new Substack <a href="https://open.substack.com/pub/goodhours/p/artificer?r=760f3&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web" target="_blank">My Love Letter to Good Hours</a> </p><p>or follow this link. <a href="https://open.substack.com/pub/goodhours/p/artificer?r=760f3&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web" target="_blank">https://open.substack.com/pub/goodhours/p/artificer?r=760f3&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web</a></p>Derek Olson (Oldwolf)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17266838091596906383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8672429826561258985.post-82805290235009332712022-10-01T12:09:00.003-05:002022-10-01T12:24:38.670-05:00The Fortune of a Lucky Moment.<p></p><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifts7NjGC6bP4AiPu2hVxaLarbHPdLcjZ_iJrWNP_YaRBMm1iYlKwx78L57Q6aFOCYu_yi6-c_c-9AKSnUgk3e7sorj6GGvFWGMQ52Fhl-wuxmlMf2wbwg2qLYGDPkVASZvDDi2FwQ-z8zcgXrEUTE_oVyuiwmcSl3wR2Hdr7IMur19GO02NQb3-kx/s3024/F8BA9AF8-EC1F-4A6F-831C-5FA383D5854A.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifts7NjGC6bP4AiPu2hVxaLarbHPdLcjZ_iJrWNP_YaRBMm1iYlKwx78L57Q6aFOCYu_yi6-c_c-9AKSnUgk3e7sorj6GGvFWGMQ52Fhl-wuxmlMf2wbwg2qLYGDPkVASZvDDi2FwQ-z8zcgXrEUTE_oVyuiwmcSl3wR2Hdr7IMur19GO02NQb3-kx/w640-h640/F8BA9AF8-EC1F-4A6F-831C-5FA383D5854A.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Noon…</span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Vacation…</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 24px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">No plans other than not going anywhere…</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 24px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">First Gin & Tonic of the day...</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 24px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Jack White booming on the Bluetooth speaker…</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 24px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Shedding my velvet…</span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Sunshine…</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 24px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Comfy pants…</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 24px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Just me and my wife… </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 24px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Middle of nowhere USA (or a half hour away from there according to Steve Martin)…</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 24px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 24px; text-size-adjust: auto;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_mfPyEReXqIba8Icb-1zf-TseFKyyyfPOXCwmeUu3Z1ITuh40iGhjLwDZooqJ5WO8GdIqqeQUovm7kFMbrj53lmc9aslXQsjxwISK6kKfp7xCACG4nTtEuC0ikZtxzgJYw8GyXatQGcArmCKMUmxXzqflYA8Lz3_vzMyJ1U-XZlVOdNjMhvkag7gd/s1041/BC5FB415-77ED-4E3F-AF47-D8F9F30CB72E.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1041" data-original-width="1041" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_mfPyEReXqIba8Icb-1zf-TseFKyyyfPOXCwmeUu3Z1ITuh40iGhjLwDZooqJ5WO8GdIqqeQUovm7kFMbrj53lmc9aslXQsjxwISK6kKfp7xCACG4nTtEuC0ikZtxzgJYw8GyXatQGcArmCKMUmxXzqflYA8Lz3_vzMyJ1U-XZlVOdNjMhvkag7gd/w400-h400/BC5FB415-77ED-4E3F-AF47-D8F9F30CB72E.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 24px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">No neighbors, no responsibilities, just drink eat and write whatever we want. Play the music loud and hoist a middle finger or two towards anything we please…</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 24px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">It feels like privilege... </span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">It is a privilege...</span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">The fortune of a lucky moment seized...</span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">It’s been a long year already and I’m genuinely soul-weary. Working at piecing myself back together and wanting to untie the tangled knots of heavy chain that wrap between my ears and shoulder blades...</span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Gremlins digging sharp fingernails into vulnerable territories…</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 24px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">And yet to have a second to contemplate that is, in itself, a privilege...</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 24px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">And I very much appreciate this moment. This day. This privilege...</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 24px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">After all, what can you do but learn to appreciate the good things you have. It’s certainly preferable, and easier, than feeling hateful and jealous about the things you don’t have...</span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">The things you've lost...</span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Forward is the way I'm facing and the only direction I'm worried about...</span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">I guess this is me now. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 24px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">After today the road doesn’t get shorter. Challenges don’t disappear. The things that have happened don’t change. The roads ahead are just as rocky and full of chance. Nothing changes. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 24px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-JK0rFjNhN6MP-PMC5RAFv8rN8bVSdVzJniFsXvrciDgvzas1q8pHnN0ChIpIsXn7ZleZ6kJX7YniszlsYn6NpCkY7Zcr54sqyFXJC39eZwnXyEZP0MNEn-YKvOmfyIXkgBRfq4XGSu5MxG4bj03O_FbOqjN2CFRDAJ1QTtDSkNJfIIUTOojIJZJV/s3024/17F3F631-ACDD-44C9-B9A3-EF0F4B85B5BF.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-JK0rFjNhN6MP-PMC5RAFv8rN8bVSdVzJniFsXvrciDgvzas1q8pHnN0ChIpIsXn7ZleZ6kJX7YniszlsYn6NpCkY7Zcr54sqyFXJC39eZwnXyEZP0MNEn-YKvOmfyIXkgBRfq4XGSu5MxG4bj03O_FbOqjN2CFRDAJ1QTtDSkNJfIIUTOojIJZJV/w400-h400/17F3F631-ACDD-44C9-B9A3-EF0F4B85B5BF.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">But today… </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 24px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Right now… </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 24px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">I’ll take the peace that’s offered in this parcel of </span><span style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">privileged</span><span style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"> paradise and feel thankful for this bite sized portion of good fortune. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 24px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Ratione et Passionis </span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Oldwolf. </span></p>Derek Olson (Oldwolf)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17266838091596906383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8672429826561258985.post-67058493403647399622022-02-27T06:23:00.002-06:002022-02-27T06:23:15.310-06:00Urn Build Design Video Diary: Day One<p> My father's official funeral service was yesterday. Not to ruin the suspense... but I did finish the urn in time. </p><p>Since I did shoot the majority of the build, I will work my way through and post the days on YouTube and here, but I don't know if I have a whole lot to say about it anymore. Without further preamble.... Day One of the Urn build. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="336" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/GG3HDgaIayI" width="499" youtube-src-id="GG3HDgaIayI"></iframe></div><p><br /></p><p>Thanks </p><p>D</p>Derek Olsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00650879629801384416noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8672429826561258985.post-8420938619711553092022-02-19T13:20:00.001-06:002022-02-19T13:20:19.736-06:00Darrel W. Olson. <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjDnaVgCJp2OvRVSXXshHvxNukkX2YsqmsfyR5UX9V5Eu6Sw2mYmiNAP569P0szT7ZUIZHgLELMtENUjDvwfFrlByyVFyX4UNbkv24LPdOVk9Y1ne1CKzgiFi6NzppUsj1Fe-XbOKSvSD6XL1c2CTZrri5VJufitNH4_KLyvf7FSPC9EaxBhBFVyZzO=s1170" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="774" data-original-width="1170" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjDnaVgCJp2OvRVSXXshHvxNukkX2YsqmsfyR5UX9V5Eu6Sw2mYmiNAP569P0szT7ZUIZHgLELMtENUjDvwfFrlByyVFyX4UNbkv24LPdOVk9Y1ne1CKzgiFi6NzppUsj1Fe-XbOKSvSD6XL1c2CTZrri5VJufitNH4_KLyvf7FSPC9EaxBhBFVyZzO=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /> <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Darrel W. Olson</span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Darrel Wayne Olson, 74, of West Salem, Wisconsin, unexpectedly passed away at Gundersen Healthcare in La Crosse Wisconsin on Feb. 6</span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: 0.6em; vertical-align: super;">th</span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, 2022 </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He was born in Roseau, Minnesota to Arthur “Manfred” and Donna (Sjodin) Olson on May 31</span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: 0.6em; vertical-align: super;">st</span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, 1947. He spent his youth working on the family farm and helping his father build the house they lived in. In 4-year-old Sunday School he met a girl from town named Alana Johnson and promptly informed his mother he was going to marry her. Through high school he played football, serving as team co-captain, and was a record setting pole vaulter with the track team. He graduated class valedictorian in 1965, but not before attending senior prom with Alana on their first date. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He went on to attend the University of Minnesota, studying Microbiology, where he was a member of the Beta Sigma Psi Fraternity and played intramural hockey. In 1967 he convinced Alana to transfer colleges so they could be together. On August 24</span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: 0.6em; vertical-align: super;">th</span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, 1968 he proved his young prediction true and married her. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He left college to support them while Alana finished her degree. Starting in area restaurants, he worked his way into management and spent the rest of his career trading back and forth between that and selling life insurance. In restaurant management he proved to be in demand, re-tooling, re-training, and remodeling stores across Minnesota, Iowa, and Nebraska, before settling his family in West Salem, Wisconsin in 1990 where they’ve lived ever since. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Darrel was a sports fan, cheering on the Minnesota Wild hockey and Vikings football. He also kept track of several college football teams and Roseau High School hockey. He was a great collector of other people’s stories and had a knack for getting people to talk to him. This passion for stories only increased after </span><span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; text-decoration-skip: none; text-decoration: line-through; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">a trip to Sweden in 2011 where he discovered both his and Alana’s family roots started a mere 20 miles from each other. After the trip he began tracing down their genealogy and family stories as far back as possible. He even taught himself Swedish to help the search. He organized a mountain of research, all in preparation to write a book based on some of those lives and stories. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We all miss his abundant passion, intelligence, and caring heart. We will miss the parable-like stories he had for any situation. We will miss the way he’d make time for everyone of his children or grandchildren when we needed him. And we will miss that, even after 70 plus years, ever since he first saw her in a Sunday School classroom – he adored and treasured Alana. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He is survived by his wife Alana (Johnson), sons Derek (Naomi) and Kolin (Heidi), daughters Erin Olson and Majel (Benjamin) Hein and his grandchildren, Chloe, Fayth, Bailey, Lexus, Qitarra, Ayra, Celeste, Demetrio and Althea. He is also survived by his sister Marcia (Bob) Clausen, and Marlin (Londa) Olson, and his puppy and perpetual shadow, Roxie</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He was preceded in death by his parents Arthur “Manfred” and Donna (Sjodin) Olson, and his grandparents Paul B. And Anna (Sjoberg) Olson and John and Ludikka (Olson) Sjodin. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The family would also like to thank the Gundersen Healthcare staff. The Doctors, Nurses, Aides, and everyone ancillary for taking wonderful care of Darrel, for playing along with his jokes and for making him giggle at yours, for responding so strongly and compassionately in his time of need and for taking good care of us in our time of grief. We would like to especially thank Emily Erickson for going the extra mile and sitting with us, sympathizing with us, and answering all of our questions. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Services will be held on February 26</span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: 0.6em; vertical-align: super;">th</span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> at the Jandt Funeral Home on Youlon Street in West Salem Wisconsin. Visitation begins at 11AM with Stories and sharing to begin at 1PM. The family respectfully Requires Masks to be worn during the service. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> There will be an additional Celebration of Darrel’s Life on May 29</span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: 0.6em; vertical-align: super;">th</span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, at the Swarthout Park Shelter by Lake Neshonoc in West Salem Wisconsin from 11AM until 6PM. All are welcome to come remember Darrel with us. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The family requests that in lieu of flowers, those interested make a donation to either “A Walk to Remember: raising money for Alzheimer’s care and research (℅ Jill Wulff, 15467 County Road 9, Roseau, MN 56751, or the Ronald McDonald House of Rochester, MN, or another charity of your choice. Online condolences may be sent at www.jandtfredrickson.com. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The pain that you feel,</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Is from the piece of your heart, </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">That your dad took with him, </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So he’d always feel your love. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In the times when the pain is the strongest,</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">That’s when he holds the piece a little tighter,</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And whispers, </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I miss you too!” </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-unknown</span></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Thank you. </p><p>Derek </p>Derek Olson (Oldwolf)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17266838091596906383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8672429826561258985.post-45034308052449485152022-02-16T14:09:00.001-06:002022-02-27T06:45:41.461-06:00Urn Build Design Video Diary: Day Zero<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="332" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/1wAStUNtO3Y" width="584" youtube-src-id="1wAStUNtO3Y"></iframe></div><br /> There is no point in fighting your nature. I cannot allow a loved one to purchase one of the horrible production urns available from the Funeral Home. Even if they have a nice burl grained wood, they are coated in a half mile thick plastering of polyurethane that destroys the tactile feel of the thing. <p></p><p>This will be the 4th urn I've made. I've done one for my Father in Law when he passed and made a matching one for my Mother in Law - that is still only 60% finished. I also made a carved one for a co-worker I like who lost her child. They take a lot out of me emotionally and creatively but I have no other choice but to follow my nature and build another. </p><p>- </p><p>I found a good article today, I should say it found me because <i>"fuck the algorithm"</i> anyway. It was a good read on grief with a message I've always kind of understood but didn't ever have to articulate. Working in healthcare there is a hyper-focus on the Kubler-Ross Five Stages of Everything and, while it's a neat little algorithm of it's own - it's always felt too neat and institutional for me to buy in all the way. I will say the TED talk by Nora McInerny linked in the article is quite good to. Made me both giggle and cry. </p><p>The article is here - <a href="https://mariandrew.bulletin.com/grief-baby/">https://mariandrew.bulletin.com/grief-baby/</a></p><p><br /></p><p>I know I process via writing, and this blog is the closest thing I have to a journal since my high school days and the piles of spiral bound college ruled books filled with pretentious poetry and lyrics. I imagine things are going to bubble out here for a while - so I imagine that would be fair warning.</p><p>Thanks </p><p>D</p>Derek Olsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00650879629801384416noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8672429826561258985.post-37863841179743982872022-02-14T22:47:00.000-06:002022-02-14T22:47:04.650-06:00You Gave Me All The Answers but I Only Want To Hear Them From You…<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjyuho7Wz4Ef103fAnBZjjbbIMGsxoI7hQs3Rj1RrZVkamL8muEEvYJ_wcCfF5tWiwvliAKlV66Y6DEzqcfTSzAqb1IvzR5U4P0gqE1Z93IJFzdkXTwe27pBwzcXQym1vQd_xuhlYxtL6fjmW2jPd-lERCnEkGY-4jc42ndTTnWR1VzyiKsNGhRnX0H=s1170" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="774" data-original-width="1170" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjyuho7Wz4Ef103fAnBZjjbbIMGsxoI7hQs3Rj1RrZVkamL8muEEvYJ_wcCfF5tWiwvliAKlV66Y6DEzqcfTSzAqb1IvzR5U4P0gqE1Z93IJFzdkXTwe27pBwzcXQym1vQd_xuhlYxtL6fjmW2jPd-lERCnEkGY-4jc42ndTTnWR1VzyiKsNGhRnX0H=w400-h265" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">I’ve worked in healthcare since 1994. I started as a CNA, 3rd shift in a nursing home and I’ve worked as a Surgical Technologist since graduating in 1999. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 24px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">A week and a day ago (2/6) was my worst day at work so far. I’d just started my shift. Maybe an hour in, getting ready to help clean an OR that was finishing an emergent case that started in the early morning. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 24px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">The Charge Nurse was helping too and when I heard the phone ring in her pocket all I thought was “whelp - there’s gonna be another case.” <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Instead I heard her say the words “Derek Olson? Ya he’s right here. Just a second.” </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 24px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">The part of this story I haven’t told yet is that my father was there in the hospital too, admitted for some infection that was proving fairly easy to treat, he was responding well to the antibiotics, and I knew he was responding well become he was supposed to be going home that day. I’d been up to visit him the night before, at the end of my shift. He spoke about how much better he was than last time he’d had sepsis a little more than two years ago. He spoke about how much better he was doing now that he was allowed to have oxygen at home. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He was able to take his concentrator down to his workshop and we spoke about <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Dremel bits for quite a while. Because he was working at teaching himself figure carving. He had a fir 4x4 all cut up and prepped to start a figure for each of his grandchildren. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 24px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">The woodworker in me wanted to talk him out of using a construction grade 4x4 for carving…. The son in me remembered when I was a freshmen in high school and needed a new bed frame - this man built me one <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>- with a design based on a waterbed frame - out of particle board and 2x4’s - on a cinder block front porch of the house we were renting - using a circle saw, jigsaw, and a drill - in a long afternoon. And that bed lasted me for years and even survived a couple moves. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 24px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Who was I to tell him what wood to use. My job here was to sit back and cheerlead and help or answer questions if I could. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 24px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">I got to tell him I loved him. Said I’d try and stop in during a break tomorrow and hopefully see him before he went home. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 24px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Now I was standing in the OR and a voice on the phone was saying “Derek, this is the HOM (Head Operations Manager) I need you to come up to your father’s room.” </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 24px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">“What?” I asked. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 24px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">“You father. You knew he was here in the hospital right? In room XXXX.” </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 24px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">“Yes, since Friday, but he’s going home today.” </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 24px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">“Derek if you could just come up here please…”</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 24px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">“Ok…. I’ll be right there.” </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 24px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">My team knew my dad was in house, I handed the phone back to the Charge Nurse, “I have to go up to my dad’s room.” </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 24px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">“Go… Go… we’ve got this!” </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 24px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Longest elevator ride of my life and I was met in the hallway by a critical care doctor and the HOM. The doc told me that something happened in the early morning and my dad had been found on the floor just before shift change. They ran a code - because that’s what you do when you find someone down and non-responsive - my dad was already gone. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 24px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">—-</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 24px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">I swear when I started to type this out I had something to say, a point to wrap up. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 24px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">It all got lost along the way. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 24px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">The most difficult thing for me right now is, my dad was someone I could always approach for advise and what he had to offer was always good. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Cut to the bone common sense with just the lightest veneer of sarcasm. His bullshit-o-meter was the strongest I’ve known and he often had a way of working out situations to his advantage. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 24px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Right now I wish more than anything o could ask him for advise on how this world is supposed to work without him. I know he gave me that answer. I know it by putting one foot in front of the other. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I know it’s by being here for my brother, my sisters and my mom like they’ll be here for me. I know it’s treasuring my wife and my children. I know it being kind when I can and being grateful. I know it’s not giving up and it’s about doing something everyday. I know that being scared doesn’t mean you should make decisions based on being scared. But god fucking dammit I want to hear those words from him so bad. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 24px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">I sat next to his hospital bed. And held the hand that used to be his and I wished so many unreasonable wishes and I made some of the shittiest phone calls of my life and then i uselessly wished some more. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 24px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">I can hear him reminding me wishing doesn’t matter. Life is not fair - it can be just - but it isn’t fair. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 24px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">I had my father in my life a long time. A lot longer than some people, than many people get. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I got to tell him I loved him and hear him say it back on his last night. We’d spoken about his health, he was scared of a long lingering death. The kind that dehumanizes them and desensitizes their loved ones. He was worried about scaring my mother if something happened, and she wasn’t there to face that trauma and pain. Soon after she knew - we knew - and I had the honor to be the first one there, to be the one to rally the troops, to keep his hand warm until my mom could come hold it one more time. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 24px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">I’m writing this all down, rambling all this down, because tomorrow I have to write his obituary, at least a working first draft, and I want to talk about his life and not muddy it up with all this shit about his death - because his life was important. It was important to me, to siblings, to his grandchildren, to his own brother and sister, holy shit the list could go on and on until it tops with how important he was to my mother. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 24px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">I remember growing up thinking it was so corny that my parents were high school sweethearts - then I went and married the girl I was dating in high school. He treasured my mother. The last thing we know for sure he did on this planet revolved around her. Late at night, to late to call, he wouldn’t have wanted to wake her up, he sent a message wishing her a happy birthday (he’d been admitted two days before on her actual birthday) He said “I won the lottery. Happy Birthday. I love you.” </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 24px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">No dad. We won the lottery. </span></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Derek Olson (Oldwolf)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17266838091596906383noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8672429826561258985.post-33241955597547594652021-12-22T23:33:00.004-06:002021-12-22T23:33:50.649-06:00Zen and the Art of Vicious Cycle Maintenance . <p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi_cyghr3zUy8lwrWjw_cNeFV6Hp6bkrJHCubyiPcwZve5ZBzRZP5eozTGXFW_cgjrqXP8pwbwC4yNBrBL3gxu0Oub_5PKB3LZdd-HUIDh7VMLtmyEyouuhZrXJzphjtesQTrS8amHUNNoSzUD1dqJF4DI-IXlp0_-Lb9sWQtx6fR8Xg74YNYldL8f6=s3024" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi_cyghr3zUy8lwrWjw_cNeFV6Hp6bkrJHCubyiPcwZve5ZBzRZP5eozTGXFW_cgjrqXP8pwbwC4yNBrBL3gxu0Oub_5PKB3LZdd-HUIDh7VMLtmyEyouuhZrXJzphjtesQTrS8amHUNNoSzUD1dqJF4DI-IXlp0_-Lb9sWQtx6fR8Xg74YNYldL8f6=w640-h640" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">I’m embarrassed to admit this is my shop when I walked in this afternoon. It’s bad. It’s really bad. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>But worse - it’s not “I have a dozen projects I’m juggling” bad. It’s an “I haven’t really been invested in a project so the place has collected shit on and off for a few years” bad. </span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">This isn’t even the shittiest pic I could have taken. I’ve saved you the craptastic piles directly stage right. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 24px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">In the spring of 2018 I tore the distal biceps on my left arm. I found several other distractions in the 4 months of downtime and rehab. The arm was weaker but it was my off arm so I could deal. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 24px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Almost exactly 2 years later. Spring 2020 I tore my right arm distal biceps. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>PT and rehab in the pandemic was much more complicated for many reasons. The arm is weak and still feels weak. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 24px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">In the wake of these things - I just haven’t felt at home in the place I’ve always felt so very happy and at home. I’ve lost momentum, gained inertia, gotten in my own way…. Package the bullshit however you want. I just haven’t had the desire to be out here and that bothers me. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 24px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Last week we had some very bad weather coming through. Possible tornados, shearing winds, bad juju all around. We were fortunate to lose a few small branches and nothing more but in anticipation I went to the shop and picked around filling my traditional tool chest with the tools that were supposed to be in there and many of my favorite/valuable tools that hang on nails and pegs around the shop. I basically made my own version of a Benjamin Seaton Tool Chest. A doomsday chest if you will - prepared to be pulled out of the rubble and hauled to the next workshop if the big bad wolf blew this shop over. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 24px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">The experience made me think about the shop more in the last week than I have in a long time and I thought about how uncomfortable my neglect made it for me to go in there - which bla bla bla viscous cycle bla bla bla. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 24px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Today I bundled up in my long underwear and went to clean up and put some things away. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I unpacked some things from the chest back into their usual homes I reset up my sharpening station and I made a dent - a very small dent - in the chaos. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 24px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">I thought it would make me feel better. It really hasn’t. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It has made me spend the evening rethinking what I want in a shop. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 24px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Hopefully more on this in the near future. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 24px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Thanks for being here. </span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Derek. </span></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Derek Olson (Oldwolf)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17266838091596906383noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8672429826561258985.post-29201014847248932852020-11-26T19:48:00.001-06:002020-11-26T19:48:34.476-06:00Appreciation and Concern<p><span> </span> I've lumbered into the my basement studio, coffee in hand, to steal some time and do some proofreading on a project and maybe plan out an illustration. As I settled into the beaten wingback I do most of my writing from I found myself reflecting more on the day. </p><p><span> Today is Thanksgiving Day here in the US. Something spiritually intended for reflection on your blessings and dedicating time to spend around family and friends. Cynically it tends to revolve around capitalism, consumerism, and gluttony. </span><br /></p><p><span> It is so very difficult to write a word these days and not sound "preachy." Maybe it's just my ears. </span><br /></p><p><span><span> It's possible I'm hopelessly "preachy." but you know how to close a browser window if you want. Still, I will endeavor to embody my better self. </span></span></p><p><span><span><span> The standard tone I hear in the world right now is sadness and pity. Both valid in 2020, I'm not interested in taking the losses of this year away from anyone. I mourn them alongside of you. The loss of incomes and the possible struggle to find food or shelter. The loss of loved ones, stolen both through death by an insidious disease or through estranged feelings from deep disagreements over uber-polarized and insulated worldviews. The loss of time around loved ones. The loss of many basic life distractions that help a difficult day or week seem better.</span><br /></span></span></p><p><span><span><span><span> I miss going to a movie and a drink with my wife on date night. An excuse to enjoy time with each other, distracting us from the continual mountain of things that logjam the homefront. I really, really miss that. </span><br /></span></span></span></p><p><span><span><span><span><span> I miss visiting my parents and hugging my mom. I miss my brother and my sisters. Just typing those words pulls enough emotion to make me tear. </span><br /></span></span></span></span></p><p><span><span><span> I know it's been a long year and for many it's been worse than I've had it. All in all, at this moment I feel fortunate. I feel like there's a cliff ahead I hope to avoid, but at <u>this</u> moment and <u>this</u> day I'm taking a chance to take stock not speculate on the future. A chance to write about the things I appreciate, because it's important to remember those things exist and celebrate them. </span></span></span></p><p><span><span><span> B</span>ecause, as <i>The Man</i> said with perfect resolve: <b><i><u>So It Goes.</u></i></b> <br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="text-align: center;">***</span></p><p><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> I appreciate Nick Gibbs and <a href="https://quercusmagazine.com/" target="_blank">Quercus Magazine</a>. This is an exceptional and quirky publication out of the UK, inspired by John Brown (of Welch Stick Chair fame). I'd had a couple experiences that made me decide my previous goal of writing for <i>every woodworking magazine ever</i> was over. I wasn't cut out for it, even questioning writing about woodworking at all. On a flattering recommendation Nick reached out to me to write as he was launching the first issue and I did my level best to chase him off with a stick. He gently persisted and before I knew it I was back to thinking about sawdust and words, but with a couple extra scooby snacks.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span><span><span><span><span><span><span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsjTvoTamUyyPNZOrviedGlMV8cXLuKmGbqkefOYudcQ4CVUrRdN8RDkUqziyJt_KDmw6Fnbvyl6t-mfujF5-kKEq5f_wYwIgzOW4zVXM8JKx79JxkZRGu8tyYQxH4Vb4l_YYk7mb5618/s480/Sharpening+Book+3.0+-+Copy.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="349" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsjTvoTamUyyPNZOrviedGlMV8cXLuKmGbqkefOYudcQ4CVUrRdN8RDkUqziyJt_KDmw6Fnbvyl6t-mfujF5-kKEq5f_wYwIgzOW4zVXM8JKx79JxkZRGu8tyYQxH4Vb4l_YYk7mb5618/w291-h400/Sharpening+Book+3.0+-+Copy.jpg" width="291" /></a></div><span> My relationship with books is similar to normal people's relationship with other normal people. Nick has encouraged me to write reviews, not of new books, fresh to the market, but of books I have developed a personal relationship with over the years. I don't see them as reviews as much as I see the article as a homage and writing about what the book means to me. It's a chance to do the personal kind of writing I enjoy and the real hook for me is getting to do an illustration to accompany the article. </span><p></p><p><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> The fun little caveat, I'm not sure even the Quercus team realizes, is I actually was a part of issue 01. <a href="http://www.badaxetoolworks.com/" target="_blank">Mark Harrell of Bad Axe Tool Works</a> had an article about tensioning backsaws and it featured illustrations I'd done. Things work like they're supposed to I guess. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span>***</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> </span>I appreciate a long project to work on. I've been pounding away on a book. Not about woodworking. A fantasy fiction novel. Up until recently I've been shooting at a goal of 1000 words a day 4 days a week, when I'm not at the hospital. The last three weeks have been distracted with a side project related to the next thing on this list, but that's nearing self-publication ready and I will be back to the novel after that. Its good to feel like I'm putting a character down I've held in my head for almost a quarter of a century. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span>***</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> I'm appreciate Dungeons and Dragons. Yes the Satanic Panic Role Playing Game I've been an enthusiast for since the mid 80's when my cousin showed me the first edition AD&D books at out public library and I felt like someone had written an owners manual for my imagination. The game has seen a resurgence in popularity in the last few years and new players are popping up like wandering monsters in the Mines of Phandelver. There are lots of ways to play online and groups will meet through a Zoom call and use a mixture of internet and tabletop resources to write a story together. The campaign I've GM'd for 2+ years has made the responsible social distanced transition as well as the campaign I've played in for a year and a half. I've also joined up with an awesome crew that runs a one-shot games every Tuesday. I feel like a pig in shit with all the fun and good people I've gotten to know this way. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> Don't get me wrong. There is no substitute for playing the game in person, around a table. I'm too old to feel different. but online is also super convenient, and all the fun and people I like are still there. It helps me feel less insulated. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span>***</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> I appreciate two television shows. For a man who watches very little TV, that's saying a lot. First is the Star Wars "The Mandalorian" for so many reasons, Of course The Child is iconic, but I feel like the writing and filming is very brave, taking chances like the original trilogy, and most of them pay off. It hits me right in all the feels and returns me to that nostalgic caring wonder I need while wowing me with something new. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> The other will sound odd, but it's the 1980's wonderchild, The A-Team. A show I remembered fondly in my youth, though more as a pop culture touchstone than anything specific about the show. One of the people I play D&D with convinced me to start recording a "Rewatch" Podcast revolving around the show with her and another person I now consider a friend. I'd never heard of the concept before but it's simple. We all watch the show, episode by episode, in order, and then get together (virtually) to talk about the episode. It's been a million pounds of fun and pushed me out of my confort zone into new areas - and the show - it's aged with the times, but its fun. a lot of fun. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> We've finished recording season one of the show. "Heroes 4 Hire: An A-Team Rewatch Podcast" and it's in the editor's capable hands as we speak. I'll announce it here when it gets released. It's not high art, but it is a lot of fun to record. </span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span>***</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> I appreciate the revival of vinyl records allowing me to get albums I love by bands I grew up listening to. I fought this obvious Derek Dog Whistle for a while, but I'm happy I gave up my resistance. I like when things "FEEL SPECIAL." This probably explains my leanings towards hand tool woodworking. Putting a record on is a thoughtful, special experience that carries a reverence to it. It has made me assess which albums I've encountered that mean the most to me because they feel like more of an investment than buying a CD ever did and for certain more special than downloading an MP3 or worse - streaming the music. </span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> Those things have their place and I'm thankful to those outlets too, but putting on a record is a meaningful, deliberate act that just adds to the enjoyment of the music. A moment of mindfulness and being in the moment connected to music that speaks to so much of me. How did I fight this for so long? </span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span>***</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> I appreciate the Harry Dresden Novels by<a href="https://www.jim-butcher.com/" target="_blank"> Jim Butcher</a>. I know they're not a new thing, there are 17 books in the series so far and a bunch more tie-ins. I had heard about them but only started this year and slowly, I'm solidly in the middle of book 3. Elevator pitch: it asks what if a Noir Private Eye were a Wizard investigating the Paranormal based in modern day Chicago. Though there are 17 book and more to come, each book is a complete thought, a complete story, and that concept is beautiful. It makes the series seem easier to tackle because each book is a satisfying nugget all it's own. <br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> I've enjoyed the story and the characters a lot, I've also enjoyed dissecting them for the craft involved and learning so much there too.</span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span>***</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> Last, and back to reality, I am thankful, very thankful, that myself and everyone I hold in my inner circle is, at the moment, healthy and interested in doing the right thing by maintaining social distancing, wearing masks, and trying to be a part of taking care of themselves and their neighbors (both friends and strangers) </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> This pandemic is not a joke, it's not a hoax, it's not just another flu. I watch the ramifications and consequences of it every weekend working at the hospital, and I work in the Operating Rooms, a step removed from the real heartbreak and chaos. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> </span>You cannot count deaths in statistics. Everyone of those is somebody to someone. A mother, a father, a grandparent, an individual who means the world to someone. Who's loss devastates someone's heart and mind. Who could have been the life changing spark to another and now the spark is extinguished. Statistics aren't dying and suffering from this disease. <u>People are</u>. </span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> And the fact that some chose to believe this is fake, or natural, or only affects someone else, or whatever other dissemination is required to excuse not skipping the Sturgis Rally for ONE YEAR. To not do whatever possible to help slow or stop the spread because "I don't like wearing a mask." or worse, believing it's a ginned up conspiracy, when a mind boggling number of people have died sooner than they had to. The lack of care, respect, and simple fucking compassion for a fellow human being that's required in being wilfully defiant amazes me. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>If you could change the world for ONE PERSON with a simple act of kindness would you? If you think your answer is "yes" then ask yourself why this is so difficult? </p><p> Be honest, there's no use in lying to yourself. Walk through the "<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Five_whys" target="_blank">Five Whys</a>" You might be surprised at the unvarnished answer.<br /></p><p><span> I don't like quarantining myself from my family for a few days after a "low risk" exposure at work. I don't like sleeping on an air mattress in this basement studio instead of in bed next to my wife. But my elderly Mother In Law lives with us, and every other day my wife's immunocompromised and developmentally disabled sister comes to our house, and I don't want to live with the regret of being the possible vector that hurts them. </span><br /></p><p><span> <i>I don't want the regret</i>. See, it can still be about selfishness, it just requires a bit of empathy. <br /></span></p><p><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> And I understand some will want to confront me, to email or message or comment with an "enlightened view" of how I'm wrong, but I can promise you I am not. I've read and heard and internalized it all, from all sides of the dodecahedron, and in the end I see with open eyes what we are doing to each other in the spirit of selfishness, and it breaks my heart. </span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> But...</span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> But for this moment. Today. I am thankful. Even for you. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> <i> </i><i> I guess it ended preachy after all. So It Goes.</i><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span>Ratione et Passionis </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span>Derek Olson - Oldwolf</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p>Derek Olson (Oldwolf)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17266838091596906383noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8672429826561258985.post-13282490044155148762020-06-29T10:50:00.002-05:002020-06-29T10:50:35.263-05:00New Goals, New Normals, Same Steps Forward.<div>
A little over a decade ago I started clicking keys on this blog for one real reason. I wanted to get more comfortable with writing. My deepening interest in woodworking gave me something to write about and I was certain, in my own egocentrism, I was inventing the blog on woodworking. Finding people who were both better woodworkers and better writers than me spurred the competitive gene I carry and I was, for a while, obsessed with capturing this craft in the most perfect words possible. </div>
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Like anything, I mostly failed forward and I've had some successes and setbacks. Nothing to give up on, I still feel like I have at least one, maybe two, good woodworking based books inside my head that have a fighting chance, but those things take time and sometimes a step back to let the initial carbonation bubble excitement settle down leads to something more mature and nuanced. </div>
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Sometimes it's just procrastination. </div>
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This picture is my new(ish) normal every morning the hospital doesn't own my ass. Breakfast and 20-30 minutes on the recumbent bike followed by coffee and quality time with my laptop.</div>
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I'm writing. </div>
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A few months ago I spent an insomnia night up watching a series of youTube videos, like you do. This was a series of college lectures given at (I think) BYU by fantasy author Brandon Sanderson, a class specifically about writing fantasy and science fiction. The takes on organization, world building, plotting, and tropes were interesting, but what I really came away with was the insinuation, sometimes subtle, sometimes not, that writing is really another form of craft and artisanship. </div>
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I knew this, it's not new information or advice, but knowing something and putting it into practice are two different things. I started this blog to get comfortable with writing, and it did than. But now I want to get better at the craft of writing. When I started this blog I was comfortable with many woodworking operations. I could saw and hammer, but as I became immersed in the craft of woodworking, I began to practice it nearly everyday. Not by cutting practice joints and doing a dovetail a day challenge, that shit never works for me, I have to build a thing, decide it sucks, and build another thing better, learning my lessons and again failing forward. </div>
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It worked, I've become a fairly decent woodworker. We can all be better and I still work at it, but I feel like I can hold my own in a conversation. I've decided to apply the same routine to writing. Four days a week when I can I'm sitting down and my laptop and working to a goal of 1000 words before I get up to accomplish anything else. </div>
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I'm starting in familiar territory, rewriting a fantasy novel I've battered around my head for more than 20 years. A book I've actually written before twice and those scribbles live in the bottom drawer of my filing cabinet and that's more respect than they deserve. I haven't worked on the story long enough I've forgotten a lot of the details I had before, just the framework, which is serviceable and decent. I can restart from scratch and possibly turn out something readable.</div>
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Or get my practice in and move forward. The effort is worth it to me either way. </div>
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Currently 1000 words feels pretty exhausting. I'm ready to get up and do something again once the reps are in, but sometimes in the evening, I'm finding myself coming back to work a little more. It's building a habit, a good habit that I hope will only pay off for the better. </div>
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Ratione et Passionis</div>
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Oldwolf</div>
Derek Olson (Oldwolf)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17266838091596906383noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8672429826561258985.post-7927169692646596912020-06-17T10:34:00.001-05:002020-06-17T10:34:58.190-05:00Recuperation.<div><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVsu03IZ3SMtrMKOXtTS_I7x-WmRYlk6sf6yaHgeD9FrkoDirLrQmYuhygPdCTxPuqWKYSsabDOjisvphNnaIvGdZ1DrbmDeLSlSxrozP8ipUUHelyyopSPm-KOOFI0GXvtSRbhsYCZCA/s3831/IMG_0382+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2739" data-original-width="3831" height="448" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVsu03IZ3SMtrMKOXtTS_I7x-WmRYlk6sf6yaHgeD9FrkoDirLrQmYuhygPdCTxPuqWKYSsabDOjisvphNnaIvGdZ1DrbmDeLSlSxrozP8ipUUHelyyopSPm-KOOFI0GXvtSRbhsYCZCA/w625-h448/IMG_0382+%25281%2529.jpg" width="625" /></a></div><br /><div>Welcome to <b><i><u>The Well Of Overthinking</u></i></b>. Draw up the bucket and ladle out a draught of the cursed waters. Introspection will follow forever after.</div><div><br /></div><div>For a long time I’ve obsessed over a stupid and wasteful question. Is what I do in the shop an expression of art or craft? Artisan? Craftsman? Is there a separation? A distinction?</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="576" data-original-width="411" height="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQFAtBA2rL0BedOAmtK1R1PTSkie1DDXauRMS1iqTyXVcIbWp6aQPJDlDByG_af07gY1kKb2Jw0vyZetPhpYLKeA7_0VipvVTw8OYQs_aiDEv21QxyQhQyRdqG0JTmO9nbq7o0No9iILg/w356-h500/IMG_0386.jpg" width="356" /></div><div><br /></div><div>The problem might stem from finding woodworking after a foundation based in art classes and not in shop classes. In fact I managed to get through all my formal education without ever taking a single shop class, not once.The problem might also pull from the fact I do not make my living, support my family or fill my belly based on a flurry of sawdust. </div><div><br /></div><div>I dislike placing the skills involved in the creation of work up on some lofty shelf and into the esoteric quasi-majesty of the “artists talent” where people can say stupid shit like "I could never have the tallent to draw like that," or "I could never make a box like that," when the <i>Art</i> of a thing comes from the visualization and imagination of a work and the craft, the learned part, is the execution of that intuitive creation. I believe, and Bob Ross proves the point well distilling an "Art" process into a "craft" presentation. There is a lot of real estate where the Venn Diagram of art and craft intersect. And in the end you just have to figure out where on the chopping block your neck stretches.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJr0TEohnxzezVy9EG91istAOyHQHXPJXpGhKDrRdTPQ0njEjbWigoH3om9DXEZnTv0O0saTCUG9EITp3s-M-9cf7caiOpjrAduKGYz9g6Aeuh-yu5ZEr-026dxQ_TvhINn5DT3SH22hI/s576/B3C1F7CB-C928-4AF0-87C2-02D97334C766.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="576" data-original-width="410" height="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJr0TEohnxzezVy9EG91istAOyHQHXPJXpGhKDrRdTPQ0njEjbWigoH3om9DXEZnTv0O0saTCUG9EITp3s-M-9cf7caiOpjrAduKGYz9g6Aeuh-yu5ZEr-026dxQ_TvhINn5DT3SH22hI/w356-h500/B3C1F7CB-C928-4AF0-87C2-02D97334C766.jpg" width="356" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div> I came to a realization this afternoon that puts my own thought process to bed. For me, my time in the shop is making art.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFvPLResr9K2eGsBlyOJCulPjVKRrpQIdKI1OIQS6SnA9V4YtRjcaECfu6VWhDwsB-djO3LZn13Lx0D3s0eu6OWvkuffxlguNslYMMfpydzaYwOKrC6HXez33DzXfpSiJ1PCEmL_zJt8M/s692/IMG_1766.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="495" data-original-width="692" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFvPLResr9K2eGsBlyOJCulPjVKRrpQIdKI1OIQS6SnA9V4YtRjcaECfu6VWhDwsB-djO3LZn13Lx0D3s0eu6OWvkuffxlguNslYMMfpydzaYwOKrC6HXez33DzXfpSiJ1PCEmL_zJt8M/w500-h358/IMG_1766.jpg" width="500" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>How do I know?</div><div><br /></div><div>While I can push past it. Typically speaking at the very end of every project, once it’s finished and out of the shop, I need a period of time away from the shop to recharge before I jump back in. It can be a few days, a week, there is times it’s been a month before I do anything past shambling into the shop just to visit with my tools. (I can't tell you the scandalous things we talk about. Politics, Religion, Prejeduce and Justice. It's all on the table between us. No secrets and no hiding.) </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-8iTrjqxvh9ddyb0jd7IvC5xI1LHbbVPDtgi4B4PMFsjIdMCZyRtcPxWKLfwNm3D8CZZDyoeaVJbjDjMZgQPrkIz34G4qy919kwu_2wWV39dRPRWqcr0XbwO4CUbxVfwM-5ELRwCCQ3E/s768/IMG_1769.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="576" data-original-width="768" height="375" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-8iTrjqxvh9ddyb0jd7IvC5xI1LHbbVPDtgi4B4PMFsjIdMCZyRtcPxWKLfwNm3D8CZZDyoeaVJbjDjMZgQPrkIz34G4qy919kwu_2wWV39dRPRWqcr0XbwO4CUbxVfwM-5ELRwCCQ3E/w500-h375/IMG_1769.jpg" width="500" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Craft implies, in my mind, a workmanlike quality - a punching the clock mentality. There is something to be said for the skill of hands turning out a hundred spoons, or hand forged nails, or Windsor Chairs - one after the other, then turning around and puking out number one hundred and one. </div><div><br /></div><div>I mostly envy that mentality, dedication and ability. It's just not where it is for me.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjq8INymBOjtcLgJ7qyZOafY96CVAVrVN7uLfh9uQ1ODiaSAgHTXsPLIGfIaVS_Bp0KkTwue2kIjLGLnFLEKu8PqHkfLMpsVzGCE59-ooEqTyaXqdcoV9xvIXWs5WB-sZfY1tdAXPKILo/s703/IMG_1774.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="502" data-original-width="703" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjq8INymBOjtcLgJ7qyZOafY96CVAVrVN7uLfh9uQ1ODiaSAgHTXsPLIGfIaVS_Bp0KkTwue2kIjLGLnFLEKu8PqHkfLMpsVzGCE59-ooEqTyaXqdcoV9xvIXWs5WB-sZfY1tdAXPKILo/w500-h358/IMG_1774.jpg" width="500" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>I’m in the midst of a couple day break. I just finished a desk box sized walnut chest for a client who needed a place to put some good and bad memories. It was a bit of an emotional roller coaster project for me because of the subject matter. So I’m recharging my soul by laughing through a couple of Jim Butcher’s “<a href="https://www.jim-butcher.com/books/dresden" target="_blank">Dresden Files</a>” paperbacks and taking notes on my own stories that no one else will ever see. I expect I’ll be back in the shop by Thursday or next Monday (the hospital eats me Friday through Sunday.)</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2EzFWW8OAz7SDYGQDJGOROa7SscRUX31PDlQOiAstwXHzNOiomyKbbUe0k7EAYAE_Sk9OrxM9BwxIBG6QeufUfIFpKSY9PwDwuzoBrVNfiufvjOG3POwmXb9W3xWbKcdtTpGw7zRZER8/s502/IMG_1777.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="359" data-original-width="502" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2EzFWW8OAz7SDYGQDJGOROa7SscRUX31PDlQOiAstwXHzNOiomyKbbUe0k7EAYAE_Sk9OrxM9BwxIBG6QeufUfIFpKSY9PwDwuzoBrVNfiufvjOG3POwmXb9W3xWbKcdtTpGw7zRZER8/w500-h358/IMG_1777.jpg" width="500" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>I hope the world is treating everyone out there well, (though I know it's probably not) I wish, in many ways, I had the magic or the heroism to right the world for all and I've wished that longer than the last six months. Unfortunately I'm not a character from the books I enjoy reading and writing. The fact that I was asked to build a chest like this one is evidence of a chaotic world. </div><div><br /></div><div>The only thing I can do is work on myself, recognize my faults and shortcomings as a human being, and make amends for my mistakes. As I see iit the thing this world lacks is a sense of empathy, in all directions. It's not my line but I'm gonna steal it from the late Michele McNamara (via her husband Patton Oswalt)</div><div><br /></div><div><u>It's all chaos, be kind.</u></div><div><br /></div><div>Ratione et Passionis</div><div>Oldwolf</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP0aMNbxmPn4QDTN8_-YQqM2ay_cG-BoFr0r8nUFGQPLK5uuns-AWxDJv097-EBx43xFwdlHFHbYXQUOJcZGgSebbYQCbqh5uLG6V3PX46MTUH0OflGn7ofJesm-8hjHWO5NWixYqmc-E/s544/IMG_1779.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="389" data-original-width="544" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP0aMNbxmPn4QDTN8_-YQqM2ay_cG-BoFr0r8nUFGQPLK5uuns-AWxDJv097-EBx43xFwdlHFHbYXQUOJcZGgSebbYQCbqh5uLG6V3PX46MTUH0OflGn7ofJesm-8hjHWO5NWixYqmc-E/w500-h358/IMG_1779.jpg" width="500" /></a></div><div><br /></div>Derek Olson (Oldwolf)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17266838091596906383noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8672429826561258985.post-50716757980187728702020-03-18T20:35:00.000-05:002020-03-18T20:35:00.664-05:00With All Apologies <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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If there's something to be learned in the lessons of the current world it's how insignificant your plans or desires are in the face of everything possible. You cannot control the world, not even one little sliver of it, all you can hope to control is your own reactions. Getting to teach woodworking classes is one of the stepping stones I've planned along my path to becoming one of the 863, (read the book "<u>The Intelligent Hand</u>" by David Savage if you don't understand. Then thank me.) Along that path I had a fantastic spring lined up with big plans to teach a second combined craft class alongside Blacksmith Thomas Latane.<br />
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Woodworking and Blacksmithing. The PB&J of the craft world. Either one without the other is missing something important.<br />
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The class was scheduled to run at the Vesterheim Museum's Craft School. A fantastic looking school with some fantastic people running it. A place I've wanted to start teaching at for quite a while, I just didn't think I had the chops.<br />
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The project was a small chest from the collection. Iron straps and hinges and a nice domed top lid I thought would be a perfect exploration for the curved form glueing jig found in Roubo on Plate 102<br />
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The class was scheduled for April 18th - 22nd. The class had filled within a few days of the announcement.<br />
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You will notice my heavy use of past tense in the script so far.<br />
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Today I had to sit down and write a difficult email canceling this class, The Vesterheim had closed classes through 4/13 with the intentions of still running our class if the waters looked permissible. As some of you know, my day job is centered in healthcare and though I have a lot to say (<i><u>evidence exhibit A: the 22 different times I've written this paragraph</u></i>) The short story is that makes my life complicated and a little unpredictable.<br />
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We will be discussing rescheduling the class either late this fall or into 2021. I hope we can make it the success we planned for it to be this year.<br />
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Maybe some more thoughts forthcoming here soon, maybe not. I've been ruminating in my own sandbox a lot as of late. Shit to figure out you know. Be safe. Be well. Take care of each other.<br />
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Ratione et Passionis<br />
OldwolfDerek Olson (Oldwolf)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17266838091596906383noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8672429826561258985.post-59595754853876169052019-10-17T12:03:00.000-05:002019-10-17T12:03:55.399-05:00Inside A Dutch Tool Chest: Plane Storage<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>Continuing this quick series on kitting out the inside of my new Dutch Tool Chest. I understand that everyone tackles the problem differently and everyone's tools and needs are different, but I still felt exploring the intent and thought process behind my decisions might have some worth. All the posts related to this (and anything DTC related) are collected under <a href="http://blog.oldwolfworkshop.com/search/label/Dutch%20Tool%20Chest" target="_blank">THIS LINK HERE</a> if you are inclinced to catch up or go back. </i></div>
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<i>-D</i></div>
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There is a Holy Trinity of hand tool woodworking. <b>Saws, Planes and Chisels</b>. Yes you can make arguments for variations on these themes and your precious favorite thing, but everything outside these three broad categories falls into sainthood and other levels of canonization. The Holy trinity are my most important items to locate and secure and everything else can be filled in around them.<br />
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With the saws sorted the planes are the next item. They are the heaviest of the three and take up the largest footprint in the chest but there isn't a need for anything fancy to keep them in place, Their weight does the job. All that needs to be done is fence them in from sliding around too much.<br />
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The first decision is which planes. I keep a modest collection of Stanleys in my traditional chest (#3 -#7) and I don't understand why anyone would need more than those except for specialised work. This doesn't count for joinery planes, that's a different monster. I'm just trying to account for the basic workhorse planes for preparing and flattening a board.<br />
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If I break things down into the simplest, most basic I can solve most of my problems with three planes, a #5 Jack Plane, a #3 Smoothing Plane, (I prefer over the #4) and my #18 block plane.<br />
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Again, I wasn't concerning myself with any of the joinery planes. The idea was a general set that would accomplish most basic coverage for classes (both teaching and taking) and demonstration work. If I'm planning something that has need of a longer truing plane or some of my joinery planes I will pack them carefully in the bottom or use a seperate tool bag.<br />
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Even though this chest is intended to move around, carried up and down staircases on a dolly and riding in the back of a car, the only thing needed to keep the planes behaving is a few 1/4" x 1/4" strips of spacer. The weight of the plane does most of the rest. I set the plane where I want it to live. trace the area with a pencil, then place the spacers leaving a touch of room, I don't want a socket tight fit or I'll have trouble later, an eyeballed 1/16" is enough room to play with, but not too much to be wasteful or sloppy. Sticking with my walnut theme I ran off several strips and began to measure and attach them with a little glue and some brass plated brads.<br />
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Driving brads into these little strips without splitting them needs pre-drilling, but with a fine drill bit. this one is metric and measures 1.1 mm. Chucking a finer drill into a hand drill or even a cordless can be interesting depending on how good or worn the chuck is, and drilling with something this fine without snapping the bit is also a balancing act.<br />
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My not-so-secret weapon is a pin drill. I found this very nice one on eBay a long while back that works on an Archimedean Screw. There's a little grip near the back that rotates the drill as you push it down, but slides freely back up the shaft to reset the action. <a href="https://photos.app.goo.gl/GWQiza9qVWmtDzPW8" target="_blank">HERE'S A LINK</a> to a cell phone video I shot of it in use on this project.<br />
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It's a luxury but a really nice problem solver to have one of these. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_2W9oNMfVDQKND_GjUQcdcWBhwslFiRKh7eP0d1a3HC3yLELQHoJtzxf4dC022Y6smzSuArigspdg8-iwbuTZHHTwTqXpEvGSW9NQrC-IcnWELa2UK8BnmbrYtm-6uvKDeLTTWOYf-LY/s1600/IMG_7005.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_2W9oNMfVDQKND_GjUQcdcWBhwslFiRKh7eP0d1a3HC3yLELQHoJtzxf4dC022Y6smzSuArigspdg8-iwbuTZHHTwTqXpEvGSW9NQrC-IcnWELa2UK8BnmbrYtm-6uvKDeLTTWOYf-LY/s400/IMG_7005.HEIC" width="400" /></a></div>
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I didn't shoot for a miter joint or anything fancy where the strips meet. a butt joint but I dressed up the corner with chisel to a shallow 45* after everything was attached. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh21Uh94se8UoP0Zec57X4Gnz2Mr2SfIkoKYwTzGFba6S6-OnfMl6N5FdG0TT3rtM0X8VuGDUqrrHPkFkRTUpPSz16qnim_77Sonf4k0cM55c5s3Rg0PqHrlqMI5opG8lxrOYVDWomUgJE/s1600/IMG_7007.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh21Uh94se8UoP0Zec57X4Gnz2Mr2SfIkoKYwTzGFba6S6-OnfMl6N5FdG0TT3rtM0X8VuGDUqrrHPkFkRTUpPSz16qnim_77Sonf4k0cM55c5s3Rg0PqHrlqMI5opG8lxrOYVDWomUgJE/s400/IMG_7007.HEIC" width="300" /></a></div>
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This work is pretty fast and self explanatory from there. Measure, cut, drill, tack and glue, repeat. I will say I purposely used hide glue incase I every want to take or change these out I can soak the strip in a little denatured alcohol and pry them up without damaging the shelf floor.<br />
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Next was creating a space to hold and protect my chisel roll, but that will wait until the next post.<br />
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Ratione et Passionis<br />
OldwolfDerek Olson (Oldwolf)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17266838091596906383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8672429826561258985.post-7362672612724224582019-10-10T17:38:00.000-05:002019-10-10T17:38:31.314-05:00Inside a Dutch Tool Chest: Saw Storage<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>This will be a quick series walking through my decisions in kitting out the inside of my new Dutch Tool Chest. The possible ways to do this are exponential in number and I'm not even imagining my answers will hold up for anyone else. But the thought exercise that goes into fitting a specific tool kit into a specific box seems to me worthwhile to deconstruct. </i></div>
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Saws are a unique storage problem, I suppose you could say the same for any hand woodworking tool, but saws are of primary importance, long and somewhat delicate construct. When deciding on tool storage issues, saws are where I usually begin.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiycNkqci38nkgtgE26RmVZ8iPJkcFbQ_gLmKTnDKLNynZqX_OKJAKw6-I3Ol_ANPjNnOheAyinxBPvicaTb-XcePS3kKtYVjN2Pp5zRi80MB9bi_ewsxBHI3XSo1kCSCu-UO2mqLykcf4/s1600/IMG_6983.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiycNkqci38nkgtgE26RmVZ8iPJkcFbQ_gLmKTnDKLNynZqX_OKJAKw6-I3Ol_ANPjNnOheAyinxBPvicaTb-XcePS3kKtYVjN2Pp5zRi80MB9bi_ewsxBHI3XSo1kCSCu-UO2mqLykcf4/s400/IMG_6983.HEIC" width="400" /></a></div>
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Above is the holy trinity of backsaws, Dovetail (filed rip), Carcass (filed crosscut) and Tenon (filed hybrid), and yes I want to pack in <u>all three</u>. I could do with less, I have done with less, but this exercise is about fitting in the kit I want to have to take to general woodworking classes and demos, and I'd like to have all three of these saws.<br />
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Tool box saw tills can be complex contained compartments (like in my<a href="http://blog.oldwolfworkshop.com/2011/11/filling-bottom-of-chest.html" target="_blank"> traditional tool chest</a>) or as simple as a block of wood with a kerf to support the saw upright. Because this chest is meant to travel I decided to go with a pair of kerfed blocks to support the saw blades at two points.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG16pKH7gFzWkU7J4y4Uv-mX2hhd-P-ivznKkn4Iw3EdmJqhYTi8b0Qfy_zbq4nVP6hTQmBzSCJSDZRS3mw58eiS1ewWbDcr12RLkLh3RnZMmRPx6ixN9K2kFwzBDTcCTzF4FbDt2h2FA/s1600/IMG_6987.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG16pKH7gFzWkU7J4y4Uv-mX2hhd-P-ivznKkn4Iw3EdmJqhYTi8b0Qfy_zbq4nVP6hTQmBzSCJSDZRS3mw58eiS1ewWbDcr12RLkLh3RnZMmRPx6ixN9K2kFwzBDTcCTzF4FbDt2h2FA/s400/IMG_6987.HEIC" width="400" /></a></div>
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I aligned the two blocks together, measured where my kerfs needed to be and marked both blocks simultaneously so things would come out aligned straight. When measuring the spacing I crowded the handles together with the thickness of 4 sheets of printer paper between them. A tight fit but space is a premium and I didn't want to blow it with the first installation. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqj66hkkN86Nj1hr3DKxbxOshgVXI2-aDd8ZXN2D6Uaf69kJmWWq-kefzYf3U1UsaKnlZPLRWMuY3mg3_tdApGS1iC0mU5VH3PgL_GmxTCT23MH3flJgMhSOkpPvKKL0Db8C9VSmW-ihA/s1600/IMG_6989.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqj66hkkN86Nj1hr3DKxbxOshgVXI2-aDd8ZXN2D6Uaf69kJmWWq-kefzYf3U1UsaKnlZPLRWMuY3mg3_tdApGS1iC0mU5VH3PgL_GmxTCT23MH3flJgMhSOkpPvKKL0Db8C9VSmW-ihA/s400/IMG_6989.HEIC" width="400" /></a></div>
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I set the blocks in place using the shortest saw to get the spacing I needed and making sure the handle would sit low enough to the lid would clap it coming down.<br />
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I traced a pencil line around the block placement and drilled the pilot holes for the screws to come up from underneath. Then I drove the screws up from underneath until they were just a touch proud. Then I reset the walnut block in the lines and pressed down to scribe where to drill the pilot holes in those pieces.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_MA65RVx2q0t9IcKfQoUh9zyser5G85PGHPOBwSTUPcofrNeeI8wuPJTV5L_VBNAOyTSsCyZjvxc10VDPVuFWIjYc7RmkDeuI_OBXvkaSsObofNvBn8gsnq8ezISV-sft6xxaJMdFM9w/s1600/IMG_6994.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_MA65RVx2q0t9IcKfQoUh9zyser5G85PGHPOBwSTUPcofrNeeI8wuPJTV5L_VBNAOyTSsCyZjvxc10VDPVuFWIjYc7RmkDeuI_OBXvkaSsObofNvBn8gsnq8ezISV-sft6xxaJMdFM9w/s400/IMG_6994.HEIC" width="400" /></a></div>
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Then it was driving the screws up from underneath until they were flushed and clocked. Things will have to go terribly wrong for anyone to see that the screws are clocked, but if you're doing them just so people will see, you're doing it for the wrong reasons. You do it because it will redeem your celestial soul in the afterlife and allow for a better reincarnation in the next.<br />
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Speaking of powerful unnamed spirits and their affinity for dumb animals, As I installed these I had a moment of worry. I just eyeballed the original pilot screws without any concern where they'd fall in the kerfed blocks. Now I realized I could be driving a screw up directly into or worse, skimming alongside one of those kerfs and I might not know it until I tried to jamb a saw in there.<br />
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For whatever stupid reason I missed, but I will endeavor to remember the concern if I repeat this exercise in the future.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHev_bNKMjNaQVNZJB1knia6GSQT3_IlTMN1lMMBtCkpiyMepCj2qQ4F3EcEMBObbXnml_pQRbSXbbtnykNMrp3dYrZUBVo_MQmK2MsSB8qfQfwy6b-cs0iP44_HUxloU1_VWYX5h7CSI/s1600/IMG_6998.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHev_bNKMjNaQVNZJB1knia6GSQT3_IlTMN1lMMBtCkpiyMepCj2qQ4F3EcEMBObbXnml_pQRbSXbbtnykNMrp3dYrZUBVo_MQmK2MsSB8qfQfwy6b-cs0iP44_HUxloU1_VWYX5h7CSI/s400/IMG_6998.HEIC" width="400" /></a></div>
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The space below is tight and driving screws in those spaces is a pain in the posterior. A stubby screwdriver can get you there but this little 1/4" ratcheting driver is one of my favorite problem solvers. You should be able to find them in amongst the automotive tools. They allow you to apply pressure into the screwhead to keep the flat head engaged while your other hand makes the ratchet turn.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2rh3aZrnwuIUfPsFAyqGhCi9Nm3WHNvXpLiAZG9mBApM6tbX89pP3J_n0kdcQQyomzUnhGFKXSwgYdYp15QtoBONt9wgxigUYyWCXLsFGPnXBZ4TH9NzYtfbqxeX8J_1kWUGt94WhsFo/s1600/IMG_7001.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2rh3aZrnwuIUfPsFAyqGhCi9Nm3WHNvXpLiAZG9mBApM6tbX89pP3J_n0kdcQQyomzUnhGFKXSwgYdYp15QtoBONt9wgxigUYyWCXLsFGPnXBZ4TH9NzYtfbqxeX8J_1kWUGt94WhsFo/s400/IMG_7001.HEIC" width="400" /></a></div>
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The last part is the final test. Throw the saws in the kerfs and carefully close the lid. Hopefully you took plenty of planning and care and things clear fine. If it's close and you're not sure you can use another trick I figured out. I turned on the video feature on my cell phone, making sure the light was on. I set the phone in the chest with the camera angled at my precious saw handles and let the video record while I closed and opened the lid.<br />
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(I'm not gonna post the little video but if you're interested here's a link that I hope works <a href="https://photos.app.goo.gl/M6CmXJg5oA8JAysw8">https://photos.app.goo.gl/M6CmXJg5oA8JAysw8</a> )<br />
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With the saws in place the second space eating tool in the hand tool trinity would be planes. I will show you how I tacked those next.<br />
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Ratione et Passionis<br />
OldwolfDerek Olson (Oldwolf)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17266838091596906383noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8672429826561258985.post-164078186840118002019-09-27T20:57:00.000-05:002019-09-27T20:57:06.832-05:002020 Combined Craft Class<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7hYe1bhvu8lpGiTncejPwl17fGUiWb5FQrrPodeLrkNzXa2T1MdselLjrmUBx2qPT8cBUsJ0TQKEgNNGhKSpdaNOeTs8U9CoLV1xL-_GKH_3XypMlyIdZ3WaXO3USNL5Huf8mbi8D0UU/s1600/VESTERHEIM+CLASS+SELL+SHEET.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1237" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7hYe1bhvu8lpGiTncejPwl17fGUiWb5FQrrPodeLrkNzXa2T1MdselLjrmUBx2qPT8cBUsJ0TQKEgNNGhKSpdaNOeTs8U9CoLV1xL-_GKH_3XypMlyIdZ3WaXO3USNL5Huf8mbi8D0UU/s640/VESTERHEIM+CLASS+SELL+SHEET.jpg" width="494" /></a></div>
I only get to teach one class a year and I'm so lucky to offer it in conjunction with Blacksmith <a href="https://www.spaco.org/latane/TCLatane.htm">Thomas Latane</a>. I get to teach a group of students hand tool woodworking techniques. He teaches them traditional blacksmithing techniques.<br />
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IF the stars align, by the final day the students have a completed (or nearly completed) project showcasing their work in both worlds! I've said it before but it needs repeating. There is so much overlap in craft, thought and technique that it only make simple stupid sense that woodworking and blacksmithing should play together.<br />
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Shhh... Shhhh... if you're quiet you can almost hear Tom Hanks fake an Alabama accent and mumble something about <b><i>peanut butter and jelly</i></b>.<br />
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The coolest part yet... this years class will be held at the <a href="https://vesterheim.org/folk-art-school/">Vesterheim Folk Art School </a>in Decorah IA. When I started thinking about teaching the Vesterheim was on my list of Dream Places to work and hopefully this will be the start of a good long relationship.<br />
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The dates will be April 18th - 22nd 2020. The class isn't listed yet on their site but it should be soon. Drop them an email if you're interested and get your foot in the door. I believe (I could be wrong) there is only space for 8 students. Combined craft classes like this one are rare opportunities to expand your horizons. Even if you're not interested in adding a forge or hand cutting dovetails the exposure only expands your understanding of craft, design, and hand-work-ability and that's only a good thing. See you there.<br />
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Ratione et Passionis<br />
OldwolfDerek Olson (Oldwolf)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17266838091596906383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8672429826561258985.post-71621057610862610942019-09-19T15:37:00.002-05:002019-09-19T15:37:36.965-05:00A Rant And A Confession For My Conscience...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Not what I sat down to write this morning...this round's been in the chamber a while, I guess it finally triggered.<br />
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Sponsorships, or the illusion or assumption of them is a weird stigma inside this smallish hand tool community. There is a general distaste for them, especially for someone at my level of exposure. Yet everyone can still love Nick Offerman no matter how many Sling TV commercials he makes. I realize there are differences, of course there are differences. The man is practically a sawdust demigod alongside Norm and Roy (All Hail!) But there are similarities that involve making a space in this world using your passion and creativity and still providing for yourself and your family.<br />
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A few months ago I had a conversation with another woodworker who I won't out. He'd dipped his toe into a social media sponsorship with a major tool company and the reception was problematic. Not only did the trolls roll out in full picket force with the standard "I Will Unfollow You" <i>cease-and-desist</i> threat. (Go right the hell ahead!) but in his own right, there was something, compromising is the word, about the situation. Buyer's remorse right out of the gate and I think and that's a tough place to stand.<br />
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As an audience member I understand wanting something "pure" when you're paying someone with your time and attention on social media (and yes a blog is social media too) because the medium really thrives on one currency: authenticity.<br />
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True or manufactured, authenticity is the only line I've ever been able to draw as to why some things work and some things don't. People want truth, seemingly better yet if it's the near fabled "purity" of the starving artist steadfastly painting Nude Lady Madonna Candles (in various scents) because he can't bring himself to do anything else. Woe unto the fool that drives their perceived <i>authenticity</i> into the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Uncanny_valley">Uncanny Valley</a>. Even the perception of a trade of goods, money, or services for that golden nugget of honesty rubs the plating off and reveals the tin underneath. The taint of sponsorship can be unredeemable.<br />
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I don't have a perfect thought on this issue. Chris Schwarz's journalistic integrity has made a hard line in the sand and I appreciate that, and his high standards with a standing ovation. Still there are many grey areas and too many factors for just me to wrap my head around. It starts with the thought that I have never considered myself a journalist, I feel more like an entertainer or a storyteller, and sometimes I'm able to trade a story and a dance for a little attention.<br />
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I hate having to think about it. I'd rather draw my illustrations and build things from wood than try and sort it out straight but there's this little voice that thrums away in my ear and worries about what the <i>Right Thing</i> looks like. What if there is no <i>Right Thing</i>? The water is muddy and just as fraught as considering the ethical implications of getting <b>paid an hourly wage</b> to help <b>save or better someone's life</b>, something I do in healthcare, in an operating room, 50 weekends a year and have for the last two decades.Helping someone in these circumstances should not be a question, Of course the right thing to do is pour my all into the moment and work as part of the team to do what we can.<br />
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And yet I buy my comic books with money earned doing a service that feels like it should be done simply because it's the right thing to do. Most of us learned the fable of the Good Samaritan growing up. Still, I've put in time, paid money for education, and sacrificed other aspects of my life. I probably deserve a wage in trade for my collected experience and skills and you can bet if tomorrow the hospital told me I was now a volunteer I'd be doing something else really fast.<br />
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Where does it end? Clearly I struggle with all of this. Welcome to the inside of my skull.<i><b> (He says as he peels back his scalp and a flap of bone to show the bright neon VACANCY sign inside.) </b></i><br />
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I try to be a good person, to make the right decisions and to do the right things. So here we are and with all the <i>authenticity</i> I can manage to muster, I'm writing but my conscience is driving...<br />
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I love my Bad Axe Saws. I have an emotional attachment to my Bad Axe dovetail and carcass saw (though I'm not over fond of the Stiletto and Bayonet monikers) Almost every saw I own is from Bad Axe. I consider that area of my tool chest to be an embarrassment of riches.<br />
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My common advise to those starting in hand tool woodworking is to buy old user grade tools to fill 90% of your tool chest. Its easy to get good returns on sweat equity when restoring many hand tools. Planes, chisels, layout tools, Buying new is fine if you're Bill Gates, but buying used and putting the time in to bring them up teaches you so much more about the tool itself. And canresult in something as good or better than anything you can bring home from Woodcraft.<br />
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Saws are the 10%. They are the only tool I advocate you swallow the sugar and buy new (or refurbished by someone who knows their shit.) Reason is there is a whole set of tools and skills required to get a saw singing. Including finding or building a saw vise, restoring a tooth setting tool, and obtaining good files that won't die a quick death after half a pass down the toothline.<br />
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As a dollar to time investment buying the saw just got me running so much faster and to know how a well set, well sharpened saw is supposed to work, you realize things you didn't know. Like the first time using a well sharpened chisel, all of a sudden the operation clicks. This was my experience starting and I'll bet it was the same for many others.<br />
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I started out as an normal Bad Axe customer. My advantage is living in the same city as Mark so naturally we got to talking, fairly regularly. By now I've spent time hanging out in his shop, I've shot the shit with him over many beers and I consider him a good friend. He calls me when he's near the final production on a prototype and I spend a few hours cutting wood and giving him my opinion. To my favor I have caught some issues in the final stages before things made it out of his shop to others. I've always been just happy to do this because its fun.<br />
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I have done work for Mark. I've done some photography and some illustrations for the book he's currently writing. I've photographed classes he's taught and taken glamor shots for his website. On a couple occasions I've stood in as the guest instructor for the Sunday Skills portion of his Saw Sharpening Seminars and helped people make Roubo Book Stands<br />
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I've done some of this work just because and I have also taken saws in trade for this work.<br />
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The big thing is Mark now employs two of my children. Yes, 2/3rds of my offspring make up 3/5ths of his workforce. (That equation doesn't count Mark and Yvonne) I'm very good friends with James (the last 2/3rds of my equation) He's over at my house at least once a month for Dungeons & Dragons night and he's hung out in my shop many times.<br />
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You could say I do have an interest in the continued success of Bad Axe Saws considering it supports three friends and two children. This is <b><u>WAY</u></b> beyond the fact that I own plenty of the saws.<br />
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I maintain what I believe is a clean opinion about Mark's saws. I've tried all the competitors, yes ALL the competitors, past and present, (this is also due to this friendship) and he sets the standard everyone else is chasing. However, I understand how anyone would take my connections and cast shade on anything I say or write or produce, even if it's simply a picture of me cutting dovetails. I have no real way around any of that and mostly I'm tired of feeling apologetic and contrite. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of my students Will Reser, from this past spring's Dutch Tool Chest class, crosscutting his chest lid. He lifted his head showing that smile of wonder. </td></tr>
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What I've witnessed and experienced is the look on anyone's face when I put one of my saws in their hands. Naturally my saws go with me to demos and to teach classes and I like to teach people how hand sawing isn't sleight of hand. Whether it's an experienced hand tool user who just hasn't tried Mark's saws or someone who hasn't cut with a sharpened saw before and believes it's super hard work the look that follows tells all. They start the saw and sever the wood and wonder shows through their eyes and smile. My tips and pointers may have put them on the road but the quality in Mark's saws was the gas in the engine.<br />
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No one has looked at me and told me I'm full of shit after they've made a cut, or many cut's with one of my saws. Usually all I hear is akin to "Wow!"<br />
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I don't consider Mark a sponsor, not in any traditional sense. I consider him friendly support. I've traded or paid for everything I have from his shop and this lays every entanglement I have out in the open. Cards on the table. I'm not gonna feel sheepish about things any longer.<br />
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Obviously I've been thinking about this too much, and for to long of a time. Soon it will be back to our regular program here, if there even is such a thing.<br />
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Ratione et Passionis<br />
OldwolfDerek Olson (Oldwolf)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17266838091596906383noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8672429826561258985.post-85158527753790270702019-09-18T11:26:00.000-05:002019-09-19T10:26:07.169-05:00Inside A Dutch Tool Chest<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This past spring <a href="https://www.spaco.org/latane/TCLatane.htm">Tom Latanè</a> and I teamed up for a joined craft class mixing blacksmithing and woodworking. Students forged hinges, a static hasp, loop, and escutcheon with Tom and I walked them through the woodworking portion. It was fantastic, a great learning experience for me and I’m pretty sure, for all the students.<br />
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<b><u>We are repeating the experiment with a different piece this coming SPRING in Decorah IA at the Vesterheim Museum’s <a href="https://vesterheim.org/folk-art-school/">Folk Art School</a>! More info on the way as we nail down dates.</u></b><br />
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In the blue is the demo chest Tom and I collaborated on to create something we both wanted to teach. I like the piece and pushed some of the design elements in response to making something worthy of Tom's fantastic iron work. After long personal debate I’ve decided to keep it for myself. (There is another similar chest in the pipeline that will be for sale) It will look good to bring with for demos and if I ever get the chance to take a class. I've never built something I feel so attached to but I imagine it has to do with the experience of sharing the experience with a good friend.<br />
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Keeping it means I have to start kitting out the inside with some tool storage solutions.<br />
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Filling the inside of a tool chest is an incredibly personal endeavor. Everyone has slightly different tools and different priorities. Just run a quick image search for <a href="https://www.google.com/search?hl=en&authuser=0&tbm=isch&source=hp&biw=1366&bih=625&ei=u5qDXcXVLJb5-wSk-on4Bg&q=dutch+tool+chest&oq=dutch+tool+chest&gs_l=img.3..0l5j0i24l5.2824.7862..9553...0.0..0.155.1751.11j6......0....1..gws-wiz-img.....0..0i8i30.VfNJ6WQiVZI&ved=0ahUKEwiFn6z-ld3kAhWW_J4KHSR9Am8Q4dUDCAY&uact=5#imgrc=_">Dutch Tool Chest</a> and you’ll see tons of variety and innovation. Things that blow my mind.<br />
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So why document my decisions if you are going to make different ones? It's a good question I don't have a great answer for. There's something about watching the process of someone answering creative questions that fires up your own mind. "I see what you were going for there but I think I'd have done . . ."<br />
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So throw rotten vegetables if you want, but my chest will be ready to travel and your's won't.<br />
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There is one big “think” you have to finish before you start the process. How likely is the chest to travel? If your DTC is mostly intended for inside your shop, a place to store tools and work out of everyday then your solutions can be different. More genteel. More open. If you are looking to travel with this baby, then you have to think about how everything rides. Anyone who has packed a Uhaul truck knows the items inside don’t always stay where you put them. That can be bad for tools and sharp edges.<br />
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This chest will be built for travel.<br />
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Instead of a long drowning post I’m going to break this up into individual tool group processes starting with the biggest headache in transport. Saws.<br />
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Ratione et Passionis<br />
Oldwolf<br />
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(note: this post is highly revised from the first time it was posted. I've learned I cannot write a post on my phone without editing it later on my laptop. Thx)Derek Olson (Oldwolf)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17266838091596906383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8672429826561258985.post-35850328208764628982019-09-04T21:22:00.002-05:002019-09-04T21:22:55.472-05:00Passion Project Progress<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12pt;">Mavrik the Sorcerer suffers from dementia, it’s easy for him to get caught up in the memories of glory past. But what about the horror relentlessly approaching his doorstep? Will he recover enough of himself to defend his life? And just who released the Horror and set it on a path to confront and destroy Mavrik. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12pt;">Page 10 of “The Memory Remains” is finished! That’s almost halfway completed and progress is good. That means this comic is half done. There are mistakes, will be mistakes even I don’t see for several years. The process reminds me of my first attempts to figure out hand tool woodworking. And that rapid success/failure ratio is invigorating. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12pt;">I know there are some who want to be masters RIGHT NOW! I’ve never wanted that, ever. This part of the process is just where I like to live. Celebrating the wins and detesting the losses, it hurts but it hurts so good! No need for a safe word here, I can take it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12pt;">Horis Bonum </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica;">Derek </span>Derek Olson (Oldwolf)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17266838091596906383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8672429826561258985.post-92146716379390726972019-08-23T19:10:00.001-05:002019-08-23T19:10:30.811-05:00Good Hours.I never had a person "teach" me anything about woodworking. I don't remember growing up with a single true lesson or lecture on the importance of reading, self-reliance, work ethic, or being a man. Everything was passed to me by watching my parents, my grandparents, and my aunts and uncles and a couple role models interact with life. <div>
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I've learned what to do and not to do by their successes and their mistakes and I've learned how to carry myself through the lessons I've had to figure out for myself. </div>
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When it comes to making things, it was never a question of "if" It was just a fact that that is what you do. My mother always had a quilting studio where she makes wonderful art quilts but would also sew patches on my jeans and a halloween costume or two. I watched my dad repair car engines, build needed furniture from particle board and 2x4's, and and work very, very hard to make sure we didn't notice how close to the ground we were scraping it sometimes. </div>
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I had uncles who built things, worked construction, repaired their cars, a pair of my uncles in particular started their own business together creating a pheasant and grouse hunting resort and I watched them bootstrap and build all the infrastructure for that endeavor. My Grandpa Olson was a farmer and there is a never ending supply of DIY and "make it work" that goes along with that. </div>
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To me, using your hands to make your life better, regardless of your chosen career or profession, was always, simply, a given fact and I have never understood people who aren't wired the same. </div>
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My injury restrictions have finally been lifted and now I have a month of strengthening before all is normal again so I was in the shop cleaning and prepping to start working again when my dad called. </div>
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My last surviving Grandparent, Ray Johnson, had passed away a short while before. It wasn't a surprise but it is still that kind of thing. Here I was putting away tools I had recently gotten from him and thinking about him and then the news arrived. </div>
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My Grandpa Ray was a lifetime woodworker and car guy. After he "retired" he continued to work well into his 90's. This past March I was able to make the drive north to Roseau MN to spend some time with him. I brought a photo album of my woodworking to show him. We sat at his dining room table while he poured over every page with more wow's and encouragement than I could believe. </div>
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<div>
"There's good hours in here," he said patting the closed cover as he finished, "Oh my, so many good hours." </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
He is right of course. Everything else aside, time in my shop, time with my wife, time with my children, time with my parents and my siblings. These things are my church. They are all good hours. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Thank you Grandpa, Dad, and everyone. Not for teaching me anything, but simply for being examples of how important it is to find those good hours and appreciate them. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Horis Bonum</div>
<div>
Oldwolf</div>
Derek Olson (Oldwolf)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17266838091596906383noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8672429826561258985.post-11100428994987244172019-08-05T14:58:00.002-05:002019-08-05T15:29:35.191-05:00Introducing "The Memory Remains"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWiac-2I32vOlJJ1DebHmnLpoU4dcr8QlIIdj1dUyEaeqfyCBfCKGaO4NVDLp5FDTMn16sV04-46MbgnbAKw7CaRe0JG95813YMH75mG2nlV2e_Xrx04Iw8r93R5TwtRIvynqWkHKVtWM/s1600/TMR+page+02+done.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1238" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWiac-2I32vOlJJ1DebHmnLpoU4dcr8QlIIdj1dUyEaeqfyCBfCKGaO4NVDLp5FDTMn16sV04-46MbgnbAKw7CaRe0JG95813YMH75mG2nlV2e_Xrx04Iw8r93R5TwtRIvynqWkHKVtWM/s400/TMR+page+02+done.jpg" width="308" /></a></div>
<br />
Mavrik is a aged wizard from a fantasy world. He has fought wars, won riches, negotiated with dragons and bedded queens. He retired to his tower to rest and read and nap whenever he damn well pleased. The only thing still haunting him was a vision of his death gifted by an oracle. A blue skinned, man shaped Golem created to carry out one task . . .his destruction.<br />
<br />
He's seen it. Today is the day the horror arrives. But things aren't as easy as they were all those years ago. His emotions get away from him, he can't find the things he should and he keeps getting lost in memories of the past. All the while the Golem marches relentlessly towards the confrontation.<br />
<br />
Who has sent the Golem and why now? Will his defenses hold or must Mavrik confront this foretold fate himself? Is the prophecy unavoidable or is the thread of our lives a length of our own twisting?<br />
<br />
The answers may be shocking!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFhRyvfkWPu8gotoLMmk24gkpo7gQE7silP9ndlBiuL4k6kGxzr8AfEwiI9sJknZVDJY8pOI-3geTx6jFKuiKVxyE618W7fJvEMtgHC5fVZods66t2joNEIE4PGndkzFAHdtFRlVyIhzQ/s1600/IMG-6029.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1431" data-original-width="1600" height="356" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFhRyvfkWPu8gotoLMmk24gkpo7gQE7silP9ndlBiuL4k6kGxzr8AfEwiI9sJknZVDJY8pOI-3geTx6jFKuiKVxyE618W7fJvEMtgHC5fVZods66t2joNEIE4PGndkzFAHdtFRlVyIhzQ/s400/IMG-6029.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
This is the project I'm currently neck deep into, a single issue comic book. (no...not a graphic novel, a standard length comic book issue, 22 drawn pages of story) I've written the script and I'm currently working my way through all the other jobs that usually flow from a team of people. That puts me in the roles of Writer, Penciler, Inker, Colorist, and Letterer. (I guess you could add editor to that too...) The process is creatively intoxicating to me.<br />
<br />
The story's concept is simple and personal. "The Memory Remains" is the disease of Alzheimer's from the inside.<br />
<br />
We all age. We all suffer with age. Dementia and Alzheimer’s are huge issues we don’t have a great handle on as individuals or as a society. It’s an insidious problem that steals from everyone it touches, both the inflicted and those around them. It washes over good memories, mocks rational thought, lacerates control, and bruises love to the point that it sometimes cannot recover.<br />
<br />
I've watched the hateful process and outcomes clinically; my earliest job in healthcare was as a CNA in a nursing home.<br />
<br />
And I've experienced the creeping horror personally; my grandma Adeline was diagnosed with Alzheimer's in my late 20's. I remember actually feeling some relief at hearing those words. She was one of the most influential people in my young life, but the anxiety and anger that bubbles inside those inflicted is overwhelming. I can only imagine (so far) what my reactions would be as my own mind and memories betrayed me, especially to those I deeply loved. The struggle she must have suffered breaks my heart to think of and I know how those of us on the outside suffered as she lashed out, and compensated, and rationalized, and blamed, and .... and.... and...<br />
<br />
I've visited with vets suffering from PTSD who returned from Fallujah to small town midwest America and are still hyper-vigilant, scanning rooftops for the silhouettes of snipers, and sadly I feel the same way sometimes interacting with my own mom. Grandma Addie's diagnosis was a revelation that brought clarity. Suddenly I understood that weird phone conversation and the lecturing letters that reading felt on par with being jabbed by a hundred sharp forks.<br />
<br />
Now I analyze conversations with my parents looking for the same signposts. It doesn't work like that, but sometimes I can't help myself. I've spent a lot of time thinking about the disease. If I have one real gift it's the ability to look at issues from all the different facets on the Rubik's Cube. I've placed myself inside the problem and I've lived it on the out.<br />
<br />
The ending is unexpected, and maybe a bit shocking, but I hope what I've written is seen as an attempt to treat a tough subject with heartfelt realism.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwNTLBewzMUeGaxHIndQ6n4fxtfSrpMFQwfu5t5mcYIMGh7qqQ7l1wLN9pTxTa2lMgNSa0uNNhHDDt2SpiLchnXAOaxapeCtA02tmISf9l6w_jnJmSpNA3ZK7EPsdYae8t6OfsePUAbl8/s1600/TMR+page+03+done.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1234" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwNTLBewzMUeGaxHIndQ6n4fxtfSrpMFQwfu5t5mcYIMGh7qqQ7l1wLN9pTxTa2lMgNSa0uNNhHDDt2SpiLchnXAOaxapeCtA02tmISf9l6w_jnJmSpNA3ZK7EPsdYae8t6OfsePUAbl8/s400/TMR+page+03+done.jpg" width="307" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">DAMMIT WHERE IS IT !?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Along with teaching myself the entire creation process I have yet to figure out the distribution. There are many avenues but I'm not sure all of them are the right way to go. At this time I'm really only considering going grass routes with it. Printing some physical copies and distributing it here via web-based sales and (fingers crossed) through a couple local comic book outlets.<br />
<br />
I'll be burning that bridge when I come to it, the other work has to come first. Stay tuned, I'll let you know.<br />
<br />
Thank you<br />
<br />
Derek Olson<br />
<br />
<br />
Post-script: For a long time I stubbornly reserved this blog for it's original intent, a place to document my thoughts and output in woodworking, but lately I've had a lot more time than usual to think about this space in general and what it should reflect about me. It is, afterall, the front face of my creative side I show to the world, why not share all of it.<br />
<br />
When I updated the look of the place a while ago I changed the banner above to a new logo and an introductory list that attempted to sum up the numerous interests I pursue, and am sometimes compensated for. Woodworking will appear here when it is relevant, but moving forward I don't see why I shouldn't embrace all of the whirlwind. It's most interesting to me when disciplines cross paths and share chromosomes so I welcome everyone to a glimpse into my primordial soup.<br />
<br />
DDerek Olson (Oldwolf)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17266838091596906383noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8672429826561258985.post-34052399648778017932019-07-31T12:58:00.000-05:002019-07-31T12:58:26.958-05:00Summer Vacation 2K19!!When people find out I got hurt (a torn distal biceps tendon) and this resulted in a significant time away from both my shop and my paying day job (16 weeks in total) the common well-meaning response is...<br />
<br />
"At least you did it over summer."<br />
<br />
I'm not sure if I've ever used this platitude before, I might be guilty, but I will endeavor to not use it again. I suppose people associate the summer with vacations and laying by a pool and getting a tan and everything associated with summers off from school as a child. But I'm not a child, not any longer. I like to work, summer is my busiest and the easiest time I have to work in the shop because while I may sweat, I can drink water to replace that. I don't have to spend the money heating the place like I do in the winter.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje_Sz4LT6aRw5WsAIvmY2yhWAr6GI2mgD9wY3v7VLsTQvN0MMhpXutISVaOu0YhPYL02LrjqL5R34lqmyFrEhAVNmSI5lvGAeK9SQ4PjvTPI8OlLCF6J4_a-QN26Rx4ugrQRGSWi8wcfw/s1600/one+of+the+863.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje_Sz4LT6aRw5WsAIvmY2yhWAr6GI2mgD9wY3v7VLsTQvN0MMhpXutISVaOu0YhPYL02LrjqL5R34lqmyFrEhAVNmSI5lvGAeK9SQ4PjvTPI8OlLCF6J4_a-QN26Rx4ugrQRGSWi8wcfw/s400/one+of+the+863.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If you don't understand this you need to read David Savage's book "The Intelligent Hand"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
I know some live an, at least, semi-sedentary lifestyle.<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>Go to work, </li>
<li>Come home, </li>
<li>Sit on the couch' </li>
<li>Watch TV, </li>
<li>Go to bed early,</li>
<li>Get up and go to work</li>
<li>Weekends / days off work on your hobby a bit,</li>
<li>More sleep, </li>
<li>More TV</li>
</ul>
<br />
<br />
I am just not wired that way I guess, Even my sleep setting is screwed up, I'm ok with it I've always been that way. Sure I waste a day here and there, but not many. If I spoke to a shrink about it I'd say I feel like I have a list of things I NEED (want) to accomplish and I know there isn't enough time on the clock. I tell myself it's steps towards a deep desire for independence and autonomy, but I wonder if I make it out to be one of the 863, will that be independence or will I be tied to more of this feeling of waking up late on the day of a test I didn't study for.<br />
<br />
I might also just be full of shit... anything is possible.<br />
<br />
So what does a fellow with a workaholic drive do when he's on the shelf and not allowed to lift more that 1 - 2 lbs. with his left hand???<br />
<br />
He still finds things to do.<br />
<br />
To keep my hands busy I have fallen back on one of the loves I focus less on than I'd like. I enjoy making replica props, I have several on my mind and in my sketchbook that require wood and metal working but a few projects that require different material skills and, coincidentally are lighter. I chose to work on a take on Han Solo's pistol (a DL-44 Heavy Blaster) from the Star Wars movies.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq_nrAmCu5tfz7hmvbDT5HECb9Lsld7X6hMcVWBCTGpaG84sHBBtS3Q1_gyY8bjWZR8Wxlktdzq_p0waQDH-GB_xmSVX_pPALQlReKbRjjRLnhOxQkC1gOrLcPkaaAcRPbvILf82nsUvE/s1600/987DD33B-DA39-4CC6-91B8-B7BC04D0DBC1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq_nrAmCu5tfz7hmvbDT5HECb9Lsld7X6hMcVWBCTGpaG84sHBBtS3Q1_gyY8bjWZR8Wxlktdzq_p0waQDH-GB_xmSVX_pPALQlReKbRjjRLnhOxQkC1gOrLcPkaaAcRPbvILf82nsUvE/s400/987DD33B-DA39-4CC6-91B8-B7BC04D0DBC1.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
I had a 3D printed kit laying around, but as I commenced to sanding and assembling I started to feel a little disappointed with the lack of detail or accuracy to the Hero Prop. It would have made a fine toy, but just wasn't headed into the real of "desirable object." I started to think about I could "Kit-Bash" or add things to improve the gun and then started to think about how I could just go sideways and make this my own take on the iconic prop.<br />
<br />
As you can see I decided to move in a Steampunk aesthetic. I added gears and pns and brass screws and custom bent some brass tubing. I ditched the horrible plastic printed handle scales for some nice cherry ones. I weighted the body and handle of the gun by packing finishing nails and BB gun ammo into hollows and doing epoxy pours over that. I painted and lightly aged the work.<br />
<br />
In the end I took a disappointing toy and made something I'm more proud of.<br />
<br />
But the nature of this style of model building is a bit plodding. It requires patience. I would work for a half hour to an hour and then have to let tings sit for 24 hours for epoxy or paint to cure before doing more. Then what?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe833rrqMuYT2fBK-jVN3rR-NEQ3m_NzDeaihAaAyQ9OsDkTR9xBgK6NhJhjaeGhrKq4GKwfUDKFq8m7Ep5njIfYjTHhH36YUYASufLqsteNBjw-9vNADjlf07Djgvrn-rgzBC7XzRiVs/s1600/62A69005-20BC-46EA-8125-0F54134F5C11.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1440" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe833rrqMuYT2fBK-jVN3rR-NEQ3m_NzDeaihAaAyQ9OsDkTR9xBgK6NhJhjaeGhrKq4GKwfUDKFq8m7Ep5njIfYjTHhH36YUYASufLqsteNBjw-9vNADjlf07Djgvrn-rgzBC7XzRiVs/s400/62A69005-20BC-46EA-8125-0F54134F5C11.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
I've been writing and drawing...but it has not been woodworking related. I've been making a comic book...<br />
<br />
That actually takes me a bit to admit, while I think the stigma is mostly past now with the multi-krazillion dollar movies dominations and the subsequent merchandise spread, I grew up in a time and place where anything superhero / comic book related was a taboo past 3rd grade. I did not need to give my bullies more ammunition.<br />
<br />
I always looked around before ducking into the comic book store at the mall and I always hid in the back behind the stacks while perusing issues. Activity like this was to be identified and suppressed with strict prejudice.<br />
<br />
If I let the whole of my flag fly I played, (and still play) Dungeons and Dragons. I run a monthly game for some good friends and two of my children once a month.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHAKrtQ2lycF84kT3jX8bkcC9Ib45drUJ3gNXtAEL6cZ6hF3GWqdp6hBUWab6dKYnBj22zZfDVbo6Nf0mA6Djrp0CTYdz7YkFzGgPpXEhyphenhyphenLPlQY4tuPPEaiXEOwllMAnM_qVYFflqC7Fs/s1600/Capture.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="584" data-original-width="597" height="391" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHAKrtQ2lycF84kT3jX8bkcC9Ib45drUJ3gNXtAEL6cZ6hF3GWqdp6hBUWab6dKYnBj22zZfDVbo6Nf0mA6Djrp0CTYdz7YkFzGgPpXEhyphenhyphenLPlQY4tuPPEaiXEOwllMAnM_qVYFflqC7Fs/s400/Capture.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">D&D night! Daughter, Son, and three excellent buddies!<br />And yes those totes on the Left Hand shelf are all full of comic books.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Anyway, I suck an writing novels, I've tried and burned/deleted several starts and a couple of finished ones, but I still get snippets of a story, a scene, a beginning that flash through my mind at odd times. The desire to write these thoughts down and record them in nearly out of my control. Recently the thought came to me that since these scenes have such a visual component to them maybe I should try to tell them in a visual way.<br />
<br />
Writing a comic had never occured to me before. It sounds like a silly thing to start doing in your mid-forties. But that's exactly what I did.<br />
<br />
I have a story idea I've kicked my head for 25 years or so. It's never gone away. It's a "superhero" story where the protagonist's powers come not from our yellow sun or a mutation of the "X" gene, but are channeled knowledge and abilities from past lives and I started putting it to paper and before I knew it I'd written and storyboarded scripts for a ten issue arc or season and made plans for two more seasons to follow.<br />
<br />
Then there's the hard part, where do you go with this...<br />
<br />
I decided I would have to draw it and self publish it if I wanted to walk the whole line, but there's a lot to learn with this and I didn't want to make art/production mistakes in creating issue 1 I'd regret by issue 10. So I decided to write / pencil / ink / letter / design / and publish a single issue - one off comic because I learn best by just doing and screwing up.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0FnqFX97Oqi0kWJrLh73T4bdF1WKJ1s60BFMGl0fa_riCt3acOC9xx61rXHy7TiE_jFrI3CFtkLXPoCw4cZss_i6Ue7U1UKBXiILZRibkc9W2CFLP2v5wgskIWhChBmdtJT40OCZnS90/s1600/IMG-5436.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1237" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0FnqFX97Oqi0kWJrLh73T4bdF1WKJ1s60BFMGl0fa_riCt3acOC9xx61rXHy7TiE_jFrI3CFtkLXPoCw4cZss_i6Ue7U1UKBXiILZRibkc9W2CFLP2v5wgskIWhChBmdtJT40OCZnS90/s400/IMG-5436.JPG" width="308" /></a></div>
<br />
The book is titled "The Memory Remains" and it's the story about a sword & sorcery fantasy style wizard who has faced all the dangers, captured all the glory, done all the great labors and retired to his tower to rest and relax. No one escaped the rigors and erosion of age, his body hurts and his mind isn't what it used to be but he was given a vision many years before of his doom and now is the day that horror has come to him.<br />
<br />
All the anxiety, anger, and confusion of dementia are against him as he faces the adversary foretold to be his ending.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5xQi14pFYvzCbphVEnpIYPDGqHOnfUT38JK3JIwhofJSnXMoUiJTdKVWb7_flPRjAapVE4RxopzITfTz5U0SGKWZkCCUHcZPzZjgJm140Uh2GCrXjuZH4ljXD5xHvt8Olq1enxrMDb7k/s1600/IMG-5758.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5xQi14pFYvzCbphVEnpIYPDGqHOnfUT38JK3JIwhofJSnXMoUiJTdKVWb7_flPRjAapVE4RxopzITfTz5U0SGKWZkCCUHcZPzZjgJm140Uh2GCrXjuZH4ljXD5xHvt8Olq1enxrMDb7k/s400/IMG-5758.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
The story nearly wrote itself. The art is coming along and I'm not as polished as I like but the roughness is a decent style for this dark story. Because I'm a super fool I can't take on a project without learning a new skill. All the art I've ever done or learned was analogue, I've decided to do the coloring and lettering digitally and after a frustrating day and some help from my son, the learning curve has flattened out and now it's just getting faster.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglUiG97OY5UXuEOU822WYqAjZWdspb6_UTww5bPAEIDEzybevpOXTrmpVQeVNn4FZE16i_jjmdB_5jEZxNCceJTU7Go4s23yi7dSSrMkRuh7FsjnZeAfwQ7QtZ-YxTMmRmdmnXsUFzGPY/s1600/IMG_5147.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglUiG97OY5UXuEOU822WYqAjZWdspb6_UTww5bPAEIDEzybevpOXTrmpVQeVNn4FZE16i_jjmdB_5jEZxNCceJTU7Go4s23yi7dSSrMkRuh7FsjnZeAfwQ7QtZ-YxTMmRmdmnXsUFzGPY/s320/IMG_5147.HEIC" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me getting my Crusader on at an event for The Castlerock Museum of Arms and Armor earlier this year.<br />I'm hiding my modern arm brace behind my back. :)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
I know I get crap for not updating things here more often but, for example, this post stole a whole morning away from my progress at the drawing board... The clock is ticking remember and I've got shit to do. I do update more frequently on Instagram (its faster and more convenient) so you can see something there almost everyday. I have 2 accounts.<br />
<br />
One for woodworking and making things...<br />
<a href="https://www.instagram.com/oldwolf_workshop/?hl=en">https://www.instagram.com/oldwolf_workshop/?hl=en</a><br />
<br />
and one for the creation of the comic books and other geekery<br />
<a href="https://www.instagram.com/reincarnate_comic/">https://www.instagram.com/reincarnate_comic/</a><br />
<br />
Of course there does get to be some crossover between the two, go ahead and follow me there if you don't already. I promise it won't hurt...much. :)<br />
<br />
Ratione et Passionis<br />
OldwolfDerek Olson (Oldwolf)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17266838091596906383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8672429826561258985.post-51129050208026717412019-06-26T23:52:00.000-05:002019-06-26T23:52:13.960-05:00ABK: Always Be KnollingKnolling: The art of organizing similar items into the same space and arranging them in neat rows and lines. A well known and understood process in the Lego building circles I find it amusing that it was born in a woodworking shop (at least the name was)<br />
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Here read this article from MAKE Magazine "<a href="https://makezine.com/2016/12/07/zen-and-the-art-of-knolling/">Zen and the Art of Knolling</a>" Then come back. :)<br />
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I'll wait.<br />
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As I've explained sometimes in the past. I make my living setting up and organizing surgical instrumentation so it can be handed quickly and promptly to a surgeon. Imagine the scenario where the surgeon is asking for the aortic clamp RFN and the poor schmuck in my shoes has misplaced it. Bad news for everyone.<br />
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I've done the job for 20 years, I'm reasonably proficient at it, and I've always done fairly well in my shop too. It has on occasion gotten out of hand, but no one's life was in danger, just my sanity. About a year ago I started the process of reclaiming the shop from entropy by adding some cabinets in place of an underused workbench and building a new way for me to sort out my hardware and small parts in the shop<br />
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(Read <a href="http://blog.oldwolfworkshop.com/2018/07/little-by-little-part-1.html">Little by Little</a>)<br />
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A year later I love how these "drawers" work. I have some for specific hardware, say wood screws, and some for specific jobs like "chairmaking" where I can collect job specific tools, pull out the bin and go to work. and the lids keep things dust free!!<br />
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I had plans for more, and I worked on things a little at a time. Some shelving here, a few storage totes there. But the recent injury forced the issue because the really time consuming things, like this.<br />
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Sorting drill bits. At least it means I'm in the shop!<br />
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The other change was my nonagenarian grandfather was finally in a position where he had to sell his home and move into assisted living. (up until last year he was still working part time) There was a big sale, and I bought some things and he gave me some things, But I came away with a sears cabinet to move all my automotive tools too.<br />
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That freed up the sears cabinet I had been using to relocate woodworking items into.<br />
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The other item was this nest of drawers<br />
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He worked all my life in an auto parts store, I wouldn't be surprised if that was where this bank of drawers originated. I had started to rehab the piece, riveting some of the wounded drawers and painting the sides and inside with rust prevention/restoration paint. I left the outside and front especially untouched, maintaining the green enamel paint grandpa used, along with all his wear and tear and paint spatters.<br />
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My oldest daughter helped me finish up the repairs post op, once I was down to one wing. and she hung it on the wall for me. I then spent the next week or so filling and labeling the drawers, cleaning up one hidden pile after another.<br />
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Then I started to add totes to a wall shelf.<br />
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There's even several more now since this photo, and the bottom shelf has been replaced and extended to match the ones above.<br />
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Then there was the older sears cart. It was a week and a half process of decision making and knolling but I organized all my drill bits from a shit situation like this.<br />
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Into the cart in the next several pictures:<br />
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This includes,but isn't pictured, organizing out all my screw driving bits into the plastic drawer chest on top. That took a whole day.<br />
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The next step was the metal working area. I had a bunch of this hanging on the wall with nails but was unhappy with the way it worked. I pulled it all down and made this mess.<br />
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I dislike pegboard, but decided in this instance it was probably the right solution. As I get more into blacksmithing I'm sure my hammer collection will grow and the peg board gives me the adjustability I'll need.<br />
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I decided the MDF board would just not hold up over time. The items I was asking it to hold were heavy. So I decided I should go with the steel diamond plate but I hate that even more because it's the crap in every douche bag's "Man Cave" to hold their Commemorative NFL Bottle Cap Opener collection.<br />
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As I complained about this my oldest subtly suggested, "Well you could paint it instead of bitch about it." (pretty sure I raised them to be too much like me)<br />
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So paint it I did!<br />
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And it does look and feel better. The Oldwolf Workshop Heraldic colors of Gules upon a field of Argent. She was right of course.<br />
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Then we cut up some PVC pipe to make an organizer for some of the metal stock odds and ends I have.<br />
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Huzzah!<br />
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Then I took to organizing the hand held power tool cluster beneath the metal working station. (reference photo above)<br />
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This meant organizing my router bits from this pile:<br />
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To this knolling session<br />
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To buying a few more of these Stanley Sortmaster cases. (not quite Sortimo but a lot more economical)<br />
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And my son helped me make a "wine rack" holder for my propane torches.<br />
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There is one more area I don't have a picture of. a secondhand bench that I have my belt sander and a scroll saw mounted to. I'm thinking of getting rid of the whole thing but first one end is covered in about 42 different extension cords.<br />
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How did I get so many extension cords!!<br />
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It's never-ending. It'll be never-ending. But at this point it will be so much nicer and more photo ready when I step back into the shop (In September...yikes) and refocus my energies into medieval furniture.<br />
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I'm so looking forward to it.<br />
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Ratione et Passionis<br />
Oldwolf<br />
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<br />Derek Olson (Oldwolf)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17266838091596906383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8672429826561258985.post-37557471343708790872019-06-26T22:50:00.000-05:002019-06-26T23:52:29.063-05:00Three Parts Why<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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A few weeks ago I upgraded from a splint, to a motion limiting brace that I think looks like a starter kit for an Iron Man costume. It limits my elbow from 60* to 110* and I wear it 23 hours a day (give or take a half hour or so) It is SOOOOO much better than the splint but I'm still on a weight restriction for the arm of no more than 2-3 lbs.<br />
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At first I thought that restriction would still allow me to carve, chisel, saw, and do most things. Then as I thought through the steps I realized I wouldn't be able to effectively plane. What is hand tool woodworking but 45% plane work. I'm not interested in figuring out work-a-rounds and accepting less than my usual standard (which is questionable anyway) I'll just wait it out.<br />
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So I have the time to write. . . so what else could I possibly be doing?<br />
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An Answer in Three Parts:<br />
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The first part is that writing here only makes me want to go work in the shop more. The two activities have always been connected, always will be for me. It's tough to get the juices flowing, so to speak, and end up being blue balled out due to physical impotence. Tough on the ego in all situations.<br />
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I've been in the shop some, that will be part three, but it's not as invigorating as you would think.<br />
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The second part is I have been writing, quite a bit actually. The woodworking books I'm working on creating are centered on the building of the things in them. Something I have put on the back burner as other people's projects and commissions have come up. I've always liked saying No, I'm pretty sure once I'm back on four wheels I'll be doin that more.<br />
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I've got medieval furniture to build.<br />
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In it's place I have been writing, but fiction, well not nearly as high brow. I've always been a comic book guy, even when it wasn't cool and I was scared to admit it in mixed company. I've started a dozen fantasy novels over the years, finished a few that I burned, but I've had one story I've batted around since my early 20's that has stuck in my mind persistently, but has never found a proper format for expression. Something about this time in the saddle made me decide to try writing it as a comic book script, something I can even illustrate myself. And for the first time in a long time, the story is flowing out of me in the partially organic way fiction seems to flow.<br />
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Maybe it will really become something, maybe it won't but I'm excited about it and I'm making something and that's important.<br />
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But there's just only so much time I have possible, and so many words in a day before I feel tapped out. I'm a lot more George R.R. Martin to Chris Schwarz's Steven King. (I can't help but add this video clip here, I love this exchange)<br />
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The third part is the fact I have been in the shop. But not how I really want to be. I find myself in a position for the first time, where I have nothing better to do than shit like sort out drill bits.<br />
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I have always kept an orderly shop, mostly. I work in an Operating Room to put food in my children's bellies, I do clean and organized very, very well. But this post is too long already, So I will put up a second post. Right now. Following this one. focused on the photo heavy journey of shop optimization.<br />
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Ratione et Passionis<br />
OldwolfDerek Olson (Oldwolf)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17266838091596906383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8672429826561258985.post-45983968778869894602019-05-28T13:29:00.000-05:002019-05-28T13:29:00.937-05:00Changing Gears<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I have a white board in my shop that lists the projects I have in front of me. This spring it was nearly full. I had thrown my everything into prep for the <a href="http://blog.oldwolfworkshop.com/2019/03/slant-lid-tool-chest-class.html">Dutch Tool Chest Class</a> combined craft class Tom Latane and I taught at Tunnel Mill Craft School the first weekend in May, (if you missed it that's a crying shame because it was an incredible time, stay tuned for a repeat performance) I had one more job in my way before I threw myself back into the shop full time to prep for an article query and a lecture on "<u>Reconstructing the Shields of the Bayeux Tapestry</u>"<br />
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I had been babying a leaking power steering pump in my Honda Pilot for the end of the winter, waiting for warmer weather, but then the starter went out and it was time to spend a day getting greasy replacing those parts. The starter was the more complex job, I started there and things went fine. The power steering pump is relatively easy, on top and accessible, so that repair went very slick.<br />
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I was threading on the new serpentine belt and patting myself on the back. I can do car repairs, but I don't usually enjoy them, however this time was working out to be an exception. A job I'd slotted a whole day for had only taken to just after lunch! I hooked the breaker bar into the belt tensioning rocker and pushed with my left arm so I could thread the belt over the last pulley wheel.<br />
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That's when all my plans for the spring and summer changed.<br />
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I describe the feeling like this. When you go to crush an empty soda can, the structural integrity holds tight for just a second, resisting your attempts in a wobbling, weakening fashion, then fails all at once to crumble into a compacted disk. That's the image in my mind as I remember the tear. A crunch followed by a piercing pain. I tried to ignore it and finish the job, I was so close, but couldn't. I had to go inside and retrieve Mrs. Wolf and I held the tension arm with my right while she finished looping the serpentine belt.<br />
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I work in an area operating room as a surgical technologist, I have fir the last 20 years, The only real benefit to it is knowing the Doctor's and PA's well, and having some of their cell phone numbers in mine. I didn't go to the ER, I texted an elbow and shoulder specialist I very much respect. I hurt myself on a Tuesday, I got a clinic appointment Wednesday morning, got squeezed in for an MRI Wednesday afternoon and late that evening took a call from the Doctor telling me he wanted to do the surgical repair the next day at the end of his schedule because sooner equals better outcomes and easier recovery.<br />
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I understand I'm a lucky man in regards to my access and options here, besides the paycheck it's all I really get for 20 years of hard work in a harsh environment. Buy me a whiskey and I'll tell you what it's like off the record.<br />
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The diagnosis is a <u>High Grade Partial Tear of the Distal Biceps Tendon</u>. I'm told it would've hurt less if I'd just torn it completely. The scholar side of my surgeon (and me to some degree) is fascinated that I received this injury PUSHING the breaker bar because it's a flexion injury. I just don't shake hands with normal often. It is a looong recovery, the first 2 weeks immobilized, the next 4 weeks restricted to 30 degrees of flexion up from 90, and no weight allowed. the next 6 weeks with a 2-3 lbs weight restriction, and the 4 weeks of ramping up rehab to get strength back.<br />
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Around 16 weeks before I'm allegedly off restrictions and can return to work at the hospital and to the shop.<br />
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That's if everything goes to plan.<br />
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I'm exactly one week from the injury as I sit here and type this one handed. I'm starting to pass the initial hurdles of post-op swelling and I can start to do a few things so the boredom stops driving me crazy. I'm right handed so I can still draw and paint and write so I intend to throw myself into those endeavors. I've had a passion side project I've quietly outlined and worked on in spare evenings that I will ramp up to fill the creative void. I've been scripting and illustrating a comic book. It might be something... It might be only a distraction....<br />
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Either way life is better when you're busy.<br />
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Ratione et Passionis<br />
OldwolfDerek Olson (Oldwolf)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17266838091596906383noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8672429826561258985.post-49457817433904506952019-05-12T23:30:00.000-05:002019-05-12T23:30:15.534-05:00Installing A Blacksmith Made Plane StopI am not usually interested at throwing darts at any product offered on the woodworking market, but I have a few sore spots, things I've come to believe in deeply, that require some criticism from me.<br />
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I have three workbenches in my shop. A taller height bench for joinery and carving. a six foot long Nicholson style bench for secondary work and mostly to travel to demos, and a huge twelve foot long slab style bench built from barn beams a cross between a Roubo and a Holtzapffel.<br />
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The thing all three benches have together in common is NONE have a vise installed. That's correct zero permanently installed vises.<br />
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I do have a Moxon Vise I use for most of my dovetailing and frame-saw resawing.I do have a notch cut in the end of my bench and a wedge to hold boards like a vise. This trick is taken from Chris Schwarz's book "I<u>ngenious Mechanics</u>"<br />
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I do all my workholding with holdfasts, doe's feet, and a hook device that replace the crochet that I call <u style="font-style: italic;">l'entrejambe drôle</u> (Go ahead and translate it!!) More on that with my next post. The backbone for most of these processes is my plane stop.<br />
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Mine are all forged by Blacksmith Tom Latane and they are functionally beautiful. I asked him to file a bead profile on the stop in my big bench to match a few bead details I added to the rest of the bench and as I built student benches for the class I recently finished teaching I asked him for a few plain ones.<br />
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Still every bit a beautiful.<br />
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Now comes the dart throwing. I know there are a handful of manufacturers out there making plane stops that are simply the toothed plate. It gets installed in a block of wood with screws or threaded inserts or unicorn horns. I've also known some to use a cut off section of saw plate screwed onto a dowel. And there is historic precedence for these solutions. I've seen pictures of old plane stops made from bent nails and then there's the "<a href="https://www.theenglishwoodworker.com/arnold-and-the-bench-knife/">bench knife</a>" which I'm pretty sure would make the band-aid lobby cheer if it became popular again.<br />
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Yes these work, but they are all compensation in place of the best. For less than $100 (way less in most cases) you can add a piece to your bench, hand made by another craftsman (craftsperson, artisan, maker, pick your own descriptor, it's 2019 after all!!) Why would you purchase an imitator trying to accomplish the same thing when you could be dealing with real iron?<br />
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I think the the intimidation factor comes from the large wedge shape of the tang. The piece that fits down into the block. It's something to wrap your head around a bit when you start because you are driving a wedge into endgrain. That means you can easily split your nice tight fitting block. Well I've installed about a half dozen of these stops now. So while I was finishing up the last bench for this class I shot some video of the install.<br />
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<iframe width="320" height="266" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/aBmgiOOcIkk/0.jpg" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/aBmgiOOcIkk?feature=player_embedded" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>
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Seriously. Skip the imitators and the wannabes. Go for the real steel. As your favorite smith, find one through ABANA, or better yet, send <a href="https://www.spaco.org/latane/TCLatane.htm">Tom Latane</a> an email and ask him to forge one.I believe he is charging $75 for a fancy one with filed edges and less for a straight forward one. Get the real prices from him!! Don't quote me directly, No matter what they are worth three times what he's charging!! <b><u>THERE IS NO SUBSTITUTE!!</u></b><br />
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More on the funny crotch in a few days.<br />
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Ratione et Passionis<br />
OldwolfDerek Olson (Oldwolf)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17266838091596906383noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8672429826561258985.post-27923410482672979552019-03-20T13:05:00.000-05:002019-03-20T13:05:51.506-05:00Slant Lid Tool Chest Class<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Y8_aTdIRWJRh6UCR3p-Q2aaQFt38w070zZueIMecgJ8DpwMbOVdPy2yB5H2F1u1Qu0uP0lRcQKDo0KfgFx4tebbLc7HA3UGfwx4DtgkCsO1wgqNhseLzp1LAeaVDXQl4WAGsIi8BRt8/s1600/DSC_0269.NEF.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1140" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Y8_aTdIRWJRh6UCR3p-Q2aaQFt38w070zZueIMecgJ8DpwMbOVdPy2yB5H2F1u1Qu0uP0lRcQKDo0KfgFx4tebbLc7HA3UGfwx4DtgkCsO1wgqNhseLzp1LAeaVDXQl4WAGsIi8BRt8/s640/DSC_0269.NEF.jpg" width="454" /></a></div>
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<b>WHAT</b>:<br />
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A class marrying both the skills of traditional blacksmithing and traditional hand tool woodworking with the goal of making a highly attractive slant lid chest with a drop front.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJH5a2vhC4pSuc2EfVE-HsXhZlOySR3LWHhIenth2YzcRc1HWVINMbpntfbuegne8FnhLDaHwWomJpHo06tOHiBD2wANvOC23tt9SuR3Srca_a0U5e6EodMhEAlYVBvxiLeXxHlSHNZaE/s1600/DSC_0243.NEF.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1144" data-original-width="1600" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJH5a2vhC4pSuc2EfVE-HsXhZlOySR3LWHhIenth2YzcRc1HWVINMbpntfbuegne8FnhLDaHwWomJpHo06tOHiBD2wANvOC23tt9SuR3Srca_a0U5e6EodMhEAlYVBvxiLeXxHlSHNZaE/s400/DSC_0243.NEF.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b>WHO: </b><br />
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The Blacksmithing portion of the class will be taught by<b> Thomas Latane</b>. ( <a href="https://www.spaco.org/latane/TCLatane.htm">https://www.spaco.org/latane/TCLatane.htm</a> ) A man whose creative pedigree is longer than almost any other maker I can think of. The man's work is in museums and high end collections around the country.<br />
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If you can judge a maker by his shop, two seconds around the forge he built for himself will tell you everything you need to know. I'm inspired every time I step my privileged foot inside.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOFbylZwYdkBL22TY7cYZJeuX_O6IYfkB6Z81156MHHs5bdu17R63sSxk6e-dPEC9NngBPN6NmCu7O1-VlSpL71xJIMFC-zIt5hWZ_j3WPfxFlGX9uJVmhtdJIWGrkoZQLXu6E1Ni58pw/s1600/DSC_0238.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1072" data-original-width="1600" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOFbylZwYdkBL22TY7cYZJeuX_O6IYfkB6Z81156MHHs5bdu17R63sSxk6e-dPEC9NngBPN6NmCu7O1-VlSpL71xJIMFC-zIt5hWZ_j3WPfxFlGX9uJVmhtdJIWGrkoZQLXu6E1Ni58pw/s400/DSC_0238.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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The woodworking portion of the course will be taught by me. <b>Derek Olson</b>. While I don't carry the long pedigree of Tom I have worked hard over the last decade plus to understand and hone my abilities working wood using hand tools. This Blog is a testament to that process. In the past I taught adults to work in healthcare settings at a Technical College and left for financial reasons. (The pay sucked)<br />
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I missed teaching though and I've been fishing for the right opportunity to combine my passion for woodworking with that desire to teach. I've been doing public demo's for years and recently have taught a few half day seminars to accompany Mark Harrell's Bad Axe Saw Sharpening Seminars.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLJ1dlhNvdU8H340njiQVDTvWM3blYlOZooXpEma1-fQCnH2SvsrGPWP024BMjTFXviFy6mcCeUw5M9yg-2ZIhDXtSbnFg4-jv-SKnDvA_HJcCH9KpNynrnm6bnCuPge5QPah1QlgAr2s/s1600/DSC_0012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1143" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLJ1dlhNvdU8H340njiQVDTvWM3blYlOZooXpEma1-fQCnH2SvsrGPWP024BMjTFXviFy6mcCeUw5M9yg-2ZIhDXtSbnFg4-jv-SKnDvA_HJcCH9KpNynrnm6bnCuPge5QPah1QlgAr2s/s400/DSC_0012.JPG" width="285" /></a></div>
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<b>HOW:</b><br />
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Student days will be split in half. The first part of the day will be spent with one instructor focused on one medium.<br />
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Then lunch will occur.<br />
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And the second half of the will be spent with the other instructor.<br />
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Evenings can be spent focused on whichever area the student feels they need to work on. Both of us will be around to help.<br />
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Both parts of the chest, the wood and the hardware, will be married together in the end.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMVEiKLaTouMlgBodg2upLlB-kvDtpACTJbnNw_9wy90wedMdJNVvoYPdRV40hp7W07xo_fYcjS01M61KunkERkwFSZ6S9rpxPWa6MmnMtrvE3d-5KQ3Im019vcutksYsO6AhcExtk6UA/s1600/DSC_0249.NEF.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1149" data-original-width="1600" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMVEiKLaTouMlgBodg2upLlB-kvDtpACTJbnNw_9wy90wedMdJNVvoYPdRV40hp7W07xo_fYcjS01M61KunkERkwFSZ6S9rpxPWa6MmnMtrvE3d-5KQ3Im019vcutksYsO6AhcExtk6UA/s400/DSC_0249.NEF.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b>WHEN and WHERE</b>:<br />
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The class will take place May 2nd - 5th at Tunnel Mill Craft School (<a href="http://www.tunnelmillcrafts.com/Calendar/Calendar.htm">http://www.tunnelmillcrafts.com/Calendar/Calendar.htm</a> ) located a few miles south of Rochester MN.<br />
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Tunnel Mill has a great advantage that it offers a bed and meals included with student tuition. This creates a fully immersive atmosphere where you can lose yourself in the heady waters of craft and maker fellowship for four fantastic days.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjZ5_Yu1cm_ZyZjsxs1F9OvHJj_GyCRCTZrOV7WFZHWVJQTLx2nJaU13k-0rmS1L8NKQvsZm6pvXO_a-KfU3Me4KjZ-Nds-N7wnRtJjfNOVAXo705HWM8yMfIwEM0NXNiNlmK5MfjWQLo/s1600/DSC_0271.NEF.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1148" data-original-width="1600" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjZ5_Yu1cm_ZyZjsxs1F9OvHJj_GyCRCTZrOV7WFZHWVJQTLx2nJaU13k-0rmS1L8NKQvsZm6pvXO_a-KfU3Me4KjZ-Nds-N7wnRtJjfNOVAXo705HWM8yMfIwEM0NXNiNlmK5MfjWQLo/s400/DSC_0271.NEF.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b>WHY:</b><br />
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Why wouldn't you want to have a great tool chest like this for use in your shop and to show off as you travel to other classes. Or maybe you won't want it for the shop at all. It's a versatile enough (and attractive enough) design to fit in many places where you need some extra storage. <br />
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<b>TAKE ADVANTAGE</b><br />
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Dual skill classes like this are a rarity and class size is limited. For more answers and to book your place contact Carol Adams at <a href="mailto:jc-adams@msn.com">jc-adams@msn.com</a> or call <b>507-289-4189</b><br />
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<b>Hope to see you there!!!</b><br />
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Ratione et Passionis<br />
OldwolfDerek Olson (Oldwolf)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17266838091596906383noreply@blogger.com1