The Boy (Girl) Who Cried Wolf

Probably you have heard the cautionary tale.  A boy rushes into his village crying, "Wolf, wolf, the wolf is coming!"  Everyone runs for cover only to discover there is no wolf. He does this so often that when he actually sees a wolf approaching the village his cries go unheeded.

Sometimes I feel a little like the boy who cried wolf. I get excited by possibilities and decide then and there that I'm going to write a book on teaching techniques, or become an expert on picture framing, or learn marquetry, or become a life coach, or publish a children's book. The problem is I don't end up doing most of these things. That doesn't stop me from talking enthusiastically about what I intend to do and, when I'm talking about it, it's all consuming. Somehow the brilliant plan gets set aside. Something more interesting comes along.  I get bogged down in the  complexity of the task and stop because I don't know what to do next or it takes too much energy to persevere through the icky bits.

I have been trying to cut tight dovetails for twelve years now. I seem to either cut plumb or cut at right angles to the face of the board. I don't seem to be able to do both at the same time and both are required for a tight joint. I've been learning to play piano for seven years and the progress is similarly slow. I can play the notes correctly or I can play in tempo. Doing both at the same time is
fundamental to making music.

Although I'm similarly stuck in both pursuits I feel very differently about them. With the dovetails I can shrug, put them away and try again tomorrow or throw them across the shop and not return to them for months. I enjoy the process of sawing or planing for its own sake. Of course I want to end up with beautiful results but if I don't, I mostly have fun anyway. Since I can remember I have always wanted to work with wood.

Piano is different. I've never particularly wanted to play the piano but a great opportunity to learn came along and I took it. The contentment in the practice in the shop is not there with piano. I want the hands to get out of the way and just do what needs to be done to make music. I have little patience when they play wrong notes or stop when the music should continue. I know I could improve with time and practice but I lack the will to push through. It's time to let go.

Music will always be a part of my life and even as I let piano go another idea takes shape.  I want to return to making door harps but I want to make the bodies differently. Making them from large thick pieces of wood means there is a lot of waste. What if I could make the bodies of door harps more like guitar bodies?  I have started to learn about building guitars. Of course I'll break a lot of wood and the burn pile will grow in leaps and bounds but what if I could develop some of the skills of a luthier and what if I could, then, make a concert ukulele for myself? The dream takes hold and I wonder if I could become skilled enough to make ukuleles for others to enjoy. What if this is a way to combine my love of music with my love of woodworking?

So stay tuned. Down the road we both may be able to laugh at another of Marian's crazy schemes but maybe, just maybe I will one day produce an instrument I'm proud of and, maybe just maybe, I'll be able to build more than one. In the meantime I hear the siren song of possibility and door harps are waiting to be built.