Finally a headstock design!

Since I started to build ukuleles I’ve been struggling to find the right design for my headstocks. The headstock is one of the places on a stringed instrument that the maker gets to leave a distinctive mark. Koaloha ukuleles, one of the premier Hawaiian brands, uses a crown design which makes their ukuleles instantly recognizable.

Koaloah's signature design

The first ukulele I made had an interesting headstock design but looking at it now it seems a bit fussy and, while I don’t mind it, I don’t want to replicate it on other instruments.

Ukulele #1

The next two ukes I built had simple rounded headstocks because I couldn’t think of anything better.

Rounded and ho hum

They are ok but I want something a bit more unique. I played around with the shape that I used at the end of the fingerboard on the ukulele I call ‘Little Red.’

Couldn't get this shape to work

I very much like it because it looks a bit like a bird in flight, yet I just haven’t been able to make it work although I have tried it on two different instruments.

A couple of months ago I sat down with some graph paper and started to draw potential shapes. I did a couple of pages and then left them sitting on my desk where I could look at them. Still nothing appealed until the other day I decided to have another go at it.

On the 46th drawing something sparked my interest so I started to play with variations. There was something about reversing the direction the curves that intrigued me.

As I worked I remembered a conversation Jake and I had about the headstock on ukulele #6. I mentioned that it looked a bit like an M and Jake agreed. Why not incorporate my first initial into the design?I began to play with the top curves. Then I thought to combine the bumps on a lower case m with concave curves on the sides. I realized the shape I had was close to the bird’s beak shape I used on the bridges ukuleles 2 and 3.

Bird heads on the bridge

I traced the shape onto another piece of paper, cut it out, folded it in half and trimmed the edges so that the design would be symmetrical. I was hoping for a design that wasn’t symmetrical because it’s much easier for me to construct but you have to give up on one idea when a better one comes along and this design was growing on me even as I worked with it.

This is the winner

I don’t know how many more instruments I’ll end up building but this is the design I’ll use for the foreseeable future. That annoying little voice in my head that has been saying ‘The headstock’s not right, the headstock’s not right,’ has finally shut up and I’m excited to see my new design come together in wood.

Rainy day, key words, and the old red van

I thought I had made a post about rainy/ snowy days and how they seem to take the pressure off. If I did I can’t find it so, at the risk of repeating myself, this is what I’m thinking on this grey and rainy afternoon.

I don’t much like rain if I have to be out in it but when I’m inside cozy and dry with Odie sitting quietly beside me, I don’t mind it. It’s almost like these days give me permission not to accomplish much. Oh we could change the house battery in the van but it’s raining. We could finish spreading the mulch; there’s not that much to do, but it’s raining. I know those of you who live on the coast are probably shaking your heads at the silly Albertan who uses a bit of water as an excuse not to do things. If I lived where there was more rain I might get used to it. Living in a city that averages 333 sunny days a year, it’s easy to wait until the rain has stopped.

I’m enjoying today as a break from the heat. It’s quiet, not as many cars rushing up and down the busy street one block over. The construction projects all around are quiet too. Richard is out so it’s just Odie and me sitting quietly while I type and he sits low on the perch, feet together, and head feathers puffed up. These are all signs of contentment. We may not be best buddies but we both enjoy this companionable silence.

As I was thinking about writing this post I decided to look back to see if I could find the one I thought I wrote about lazy rainy days. For the first time I paid attention to the search box at the upper left of the blog screen. Imagine that! I can search my own posts! Duh. Until now I’ve been pretty lackadaisical about adding key words to my posts because I never know what words to use. Having searched for a post and not been able to find it, I think I may take a bit more time to affix key words so I can find things.

In my search for rain-related posts I came across one I wrote in 2015 about Beano, the red van.  It was fun to reread. I wondered if Beano would make it to 30 years with us. The answer is yes he has. He passed 32 years with us in June. I wondered if we should sell him and get something newer. We’re still having that conversation and the answer for the foreseeable future is still no. 

One of the most surprising things looking back at that post is the mileage. As of ten years ago, just over 200,000. As of today, I think it’s about 242,000. As one of the mechanics said to us once, “You guys should drive your vehicles more.” The rust has gotten a bit worse on his backend and the letters LE have come off.

He has more little quirks than he did a few years ago. The lights in the instrument panel sometimes decide not to go on. Of course, that’s intermittent and nobody can fix it unless it’s misbehaving when he’s in the shop. I have a book light that I keep charged and carry in the front seat so if the lights go out I can still see the dash. The door locks are also a bit finicky. Most of the time they work but sometimes they don't, and I have to lock the doors using the key instead of the push button lock. None of these is a deal breaker when it comes to keeping or getting rid of the van. It still suits us. It’s quirky and fun to drive, and whatever money we throw at it will be much cheaper than buying a new van which might not suit us so well.

Time for new toys, Hooman!

It’s still raining. I’m still not motivated to do much of anything. Maybe it’s time for afternoon tea. Odie is beginning to chatter to me and look over hopefully. He just tossed one of his paper toys on the floor so I think he’s telling me that I need to give him another one. Richard will be home soon and it will be time to feed Odie and clean up all the bits of newspaper he has strewn all over the floor by his cage. Nothing much accomplished today but I’m warm, dry, and content. Oh and, one more blog post closer to catching up to my goal of two a month. Stay tuned.

Riding in granny gear

 I’ve just finished a book called Tough Broad by Caroline Paul. Since it’s a hard-cover book and not an audio book, it took me quite a while to finish it but taking breaks between chapters works. Each chapter is about a different older woman who does adventurous things. All of these women are from mid 50’s to 90 years old and the stuff they are doing is amazing (crazy?) One woman has taken up ‘wing walking’ where you climb into a biplane and then climb out of it and tether yourself to a pole on the wing once it’s high up in the sky. Yikes! Definitely not my idea of fun.

Another woman started flying gyrocopters and the flight with the author ended in a rather exciting landing. If I remember correctly, she had to abort the landing four or five times before they actually made it onto the ground. Another of the women featured in the book base jumps from El Capitan and, because it’s illegal, gets herself arrested and has her gear confiscated.

I read about all of these women, some older than I am, with equal parts admiration and disbelief. Perhaps because I’m not fond of heights it’s the base jumpers, wing walkers and gyrocopter pilots who stand out to me. It’s not so much wondering why they do it as admiring the fact that they have the energy to pry themselves out of their chairs and get to the airfield, or up the mountain.

I used to get up on the weekend having been sleep deprived all week, excited as a kid at Christmas, to go cycling, or hiking, or cross-country skiing, or canoeing. Now I get up lazily, have a cup of tea, look out the window, then have another cup of tea. I know that if I manage to get out the door I will enjoy hiking or cycling. I take another look outside, then look at the forecast and decide it’s going to be too hot, or it might rain, or I really should have gotten up earlier if I wanted to do this today. Then I get annoyed with myself and end up being grumpy for the rest of the day. Does that make sense? No, of course not, and I don’t understand why I don’t just get my butt out there.

Anyway, last night around 8:00 I was looking outside trying to decide whether to get on my bike and do my regular circuit. It rained most of the day and the ‘severe thunderstorm warning’ flashed on and off like a broken traffic light. I checked the sunset time. I had time to go for a ride before it got dark. So, I did the unusual thing, put on my cycling shoes and my helmet and went for a ride. I do love being on my bike which is why it’s so puzzling to me that it takes so much effort to get out the door.

My circuit is about 3 km around the neighbourhood. There’s nothing special about it except that I don’t have to cross any major roads, and there’s hardly any traffic. From our house it’s uphill slightly and on the return there’s a good run downhill with a right hand turn at the bottom. My phone tells me that I gained a total of 77 meters in elevation and that’s over 3 circuits. Whoop de do!

I don’t mind the repetition. I spend the time remembering the many many miles of cycling I’ve done over the years, in the blazing heat, in the rain, and in the days soft with cloud and at just the right temperature, days of climbing mountains one pedal stroke at a time, and days of 100km. Our standard distance on a long ride was 80 km a day and our longest day ever was from Prince George BC to McBride a distance of 214 km.

As I huff my way up the gradual hill and go to shift down I realize that I’m in granny gear,  the lowest gear I have. Really? On a hill like this? Then I decide to give myself a break. At least I’m out here, in the evening, on my bike. At least today I’m doing it and not sitting watching YouTube.

As I turn down the next hill there are some dog walkers ahead of me. One guy who isn’t walking a dog but is with the group, is walking in the middle of the road. I realize that I don’t have a bell so I wait until I’m close enough to be heard and announce, “On your left.” I know that’s a very cyclist thing to say but figure it’s better than, “Get out of the way, you moron!” He jumps at the sound of my voice, moves toward the curb and gives me a sheepish grin as I glide by. At that moment I am a cyclist again. I don’t know if it will be enough to get me back on the bike tomorrow but when I get home I’m pleasantly tired; I have revisited some of the cycling of the past;  I have covered  9 km; and I remember why I love to cycle. No promises, but if I manage to get myself out of the house regularly  there will be a day when I won’t need my granny gear to get up that hill. Stay tuned.