The Advantages of Being a Pack Rat

I've been watching the tiny house movement in fascination for a while now.  The spaces are so clean, so uncluttered, so well thought-out. It's an enticing vision. Just as with the fantasy of living in a wilderness cabin and being entirely self-sufficient there are huge practical drawbacks, particularly for a self-confessed pack rat like me. I like to own cool stuff and  I like to own stuff that may be useful someday. I know that's a psychological trap and I'm hoping that knowledge will keep me from stepping over the hoarding line. The videos of tiny houses have got me doing a lot of thinking about what I keep and why I keep it.

When I was in my 20's I did a lot of crocheting. I have numerous afghans around the house, some on display, some not. I was living in a small apartment at the time and didn't have a lot of room or a lot of time for other crafts.  Crocheting didn't take up much space and it was portable. Because I mainly worked with squares sewn together, I didn't have to worry about lugging a huge blanket around. I loved the colours and textures of the yarn. When I started to teach I moved on to other interests and the crochet hooks went into storage.

When my mother moved out of her house we found good homes for most of her sewing, knitting and crocheting tools. I figured I was never going to use them.  A few years ago I got interested in making prayer shawls and I replaced the crochet hooks we had given away. After a few shawls I put the crocheting away for a while until, trawling in Michaels, I saw a book about how to crochet socks. The socks were colourful and funky so I bought the book and some yarn. I bit off more than I could chew by starting with a fairly complex pattern. That sock sat unfinished for probably six years when I stalled because I simply could not make sense of the instructions. I loved the colours and tried a few times to pick it up only to give up in frustration.

A few weeks ago I was again bitten by the crochet bug after eyeing the lovely colourful yarn in a bag in the corner of my study. I dug out the hooks, the patterns and the half finished sock. I spent hours on YouTube looking at tutorials and patterns. I pulled the sock down so I could reuse the yarn and then I went a little crazy. In the last three weeks I have completed 6 hats, a scarf and a pair of slippers. I thought of giving away my crochet supplies when I realized I wouldn't finish the socks and I'm very glad I didn't. I'm thoroughly enjoying the satisfaction of making warm, wooly things and this time around,  I'm seeing  more than a series of stitches: I'm beginning to see principles behind the patterns.

Warm wooly things are not the only reasons I'm glad I've kept stuff. The slippers I finished last night are very bulky and very cozy. The ridges from the stitches are a bit hard on my bare feet so I searched for a way to make them more comfortable. I always take out the footbeds that come in runners and and replace them with stouter custom versions. I've thrown out a lot of the footbeds but I decided to take a look in a dark corner of the entry closet to see if I might have missed one or two pair. I had!

A quick tracing around my foot with a pen and my new slippers are now wonderfully comfy and squishy on the bottom. Next I'm investigating ways to make the bottom less slippery. I don't feel like I'm slipping when I wear them but I'm now technically a 'senior' and I'm aware of the warnings about falling. I suppose hardwood floors and slippery socks aren't the smartest combination. I think I'll try cutting an outer sole of the rubber mat used to line shelves. It may not stand up well but I happen to have some left over from lining the shelves in the van so it will cost me nothing to try it.

Part of why I keep things is the absolute joy I get when I discover that I already have something that is perfect for a project. I feel smart and smug and excited all at the same time. In every case I could buy something that would serve the purpose and, in most cases, it wouldn't be very expensive so it isn't about saving money.  Maybe it goes back to the fantasy of the wilderness cabin and being self sufficient. Maybe it's a childlike delight in what I've managed to do or maybe it's the excitement of receiving a gift that, at that very moment, is my heart's desire.

I struggle with what to keep and what to toss. I can't keep it all and I have learned that I tend to return to interests after long periods away.  When the bug of an old interest bites it's wonderful to be able to pull the tools out of storage and jump back in. I tend to let scrap wood in the shop accumulate until it drives me crazy and then I purge it. I do the same around the house. Sometimes I get rid of stuff I wish I had kept but sometimes I find exactly the right item and that is a highlight of my day. In this increasingly chaotic world we need every spark of delight we can get.

My next project is a shoulder bag. I already have the dimensions, the yarn and a YouTube video to follow so the yarn and the hooks won't be going back into storage for a while yet. I'm thinking of making a wooden button to close it.

Just Plane Frustrated

Plane blade with small nicks

It doesn't matter how much you love to do something there are times when it drives you crazy.  I'm in one of those spots right now with my hand planes.  I have three that I use the most and I managed to damage the blades of all three around the same time. More experienced woodworkers will sometimes look at me incredulously and ask, "How did you do that?" meaning wow what a talent for screwing up.

I wanted to get a couple of projects out the door so I didn't stop and give the the planes proper attention. When I nicked the blade on one, I went to another one only to nick that blade by hitting a brass bench dog with it. Brass bench dogs are supposed to be less damaging to plane blades than steel ones.  I don't doubt that and I'd hate to see what a mess I could have made if I had hit a steel one. The third plane has always been difficult to sharpen as the edge seems to break down very quickly. No more back-up planes so I have to do what I should have done in the first place: fix them.

Wooden bench dog

brass bench dog

The best way to get the nicks out of a blade is to create a flat right on the edge of the blade until you've removed material just past the level of the nick. Then you can regrind the primary bevel and proceed to sharpen as usual. At least, that's the theory. You can use a powered grinding wheel which is the quickest way, or you can use sheets of sand paper on a dead-flat granite block to abrade the steel. If you go the power route you have to be careful not to get the steel too hot.  In theory, a cutting edge is a strip of material only a molecule wide where two flat planes meet. Of course, an edge that small would to too fragile to work so woodworkers try to get the edge thin enough to cut well but thick enough to withstand a reasonable amount of planing before it needs to be resharpened. The other thing to consider is that you don't want to go right to the edge with a coarse grinding stone because that will leave serrations in the edge and you'll be back to where you started from.

I think the problem I'm having is that I haven't yet gotten rid of the flat I created on the end of the blade. The plane works well for really thin feathery shavings but I can't get a thicker shaving with it. I would love to just throw up my hands and  quit but  nobody else is going to bail me out. If I want the planes to work I have to find a way to fix them. I've already spent more than a day working on the blades and the child within me is pouting, stamping her feet and wailing, "It's not fair." No it's not. I should have working blades after that amount of time but there's no arguing with results or lack thereof. I need the planes in top shape to do my work especially as I experiment with creating thin stock that I can heat and bend. I'm slowly sneaking up on the dream of making ukuleles and have a series of projects in mind that will allow me to develop the skills I need to attempt an instrument.

I thought that most of the skill development in this phase would have to do with wood. Apparently I have a lot still to learn about care and feeding of my hand planes. I used to tell my students that the only serious mistake is one from which you learn nothing.  I don't know if I've learned to be more careful.  I thought I was being careful in the first place. I'm considering using only wooden dogs. I've had it reinforced for me that I really do want to do this work and I want to get good at it so there's really only one choice.  I'll make myself a cup of tea,  take a few deep breaths and head back  into the shop to start working on the blades again. I'll go farther toward the leading edge this time and I'll have to forget about how much time it's taking and just work away until I get the results I want. Paul Sellers said in his most recent post, "When you cross over from impatience to patience, and that is very much requisite to fine hand work, you move towards mastery, better health and wellbeing." If I can achieve even some of those goals the effort will be worth it.