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27838 <RayTSmith@A...> 1997‑10‑07 Bio, and Re: The voices within...
In a message dated 97-10-03 14:56:46 EDT, leach@s... writes:

<< So, when did it dawn on you that you were given to fits of
handtool fundamentalism?

I'm a pre recorded-bio galoot, so if this makes it to the bio list, it'll
kill 2 birds, I suppose...

In my pre-school days on our central Ky farm, winter days were usually
spent stripping tobacco in the small room off the tobacco barn. I wasn't a
lot of help, but found ways to occupy myself.

One day was spent building cat-shelves around the mostly unused corner of
the stripping room behind the Warm Morning stove. My dad wouldn't turn me
loose with a saw, but he didn't mind me bashing my thumb with a hammer. He
thought it funny, actually. Not one to be deterred by a throbbing thumb, the
project was a huge success. By midmorning I had gathered up a half dozen farm
cats and convinced them to lounge on their new shelves and bask in the heat
while getting a rubdown. By midafternoon, my dad bashed his shin on a cat
shelf, let out a whoop, and a cloud of cats went flying toward the door.
After being used for a springboard by a couple of terrified felines, dear ole
dad sent the cat shelves flying out the door too.

I never built much of consequece after that, until wifey-pooh and I built a
log house and I started doing projects here and there. Trim work and such. As
my skills grew, and with wifey-pooh's encouragement, I made more stuff.

Eventually, I needed to learn how to flatten lumber for furniture projects.
Not wanting to cut my fingers off in a norm jointer, I learned to use hand
planes. After growing tired of cleaning up sawdust from every nook and cranny
of the basement shop after a using a norm router, I discovered molding
planes. Molding planes have been my downfall. I love molding planes. I love
wooden plows. I'm @#$%^^ hooked, dammit !!!!


Just say, the cats lounge wherever they damn well please, these days.....

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