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The Hive

If you’ve read some of my posts, you may be familiar with my anti-winter rants or how swiftly my feelings move from unhappy to joyous in the spring. Well, OK, enough of that stuff. I want to pull on your coattails about something completely different. Now, don’t go out and pull the fire alarm, call the police or paramedics, or anything rash, but there are people out there who just don’t care.

It’s disgusting, I know. But growing up in New York City, I’ve been familiar with their ilk since I was a kid. They live in a big high-rise. It has a gym, pools, indoor tennis, and function rooms—everything your urban troglodyte could ever need. Their exposure to the outdoors has been dashing in and out of the subway. From the subway, it’s into the supermarket or department store to shop, followed by another jaunt home (underground).

But wait! Now they don’t even have to do that – shop online. Safe in the secure privacy of their apartment, watching Netflix. So now it’s only a quick dive to go to another high-rise office building to work, and then hole up again. A real adventure would be a trip to a museum, but again, the subway stop is only a block from the museum.

Escape!

Part of the reason I escaped from New York was to avoid this lifestyle. I enjoy working in the garden, going for walks, and seeing the petals fall from the cherry tree in the spring. The nightmares about walking endless identical corridors are disturbing. Going up and down elevators to more identical corridors, doors marked only by numbers, brrrrrr. I wake up paralyzed by fear. When I can finally turn my head, I see the tree outside and come back into the world.

If you live this way, seasons become an abstract concept. You aren’t grumbling because you have to dig the car out of the driveway after a blizzard. A downpour is just a half-block inconvenience until you hop on the subway to get downtown. You’re not worried about the flooded basement, your sump pump, or how the highway to the town where you work is under six inches of water ( happened to me last year!).

Invasion Of The Hive People

Now, in some cities, this is becoming an intergenerational pattern. Children and even grandchildren are raised within the hive. School trips to parks and camp allow some to escape as I did. It’s a selective breeding process. Those not disposed towards life within the hive gradually leave. Those that remain breed more trogs. Generation after generation. It’s like an old Sci-Fi movie about a time traveler who goes forward and finds a weird society of lotus eaters.

And no, you can’t tell them from others on their lack of tan. The hive has its own tanning salon.

So beware, and take care. They are among you now. We are invaded.

Daily writing prompt
What is your favorite season of year? Why?
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The Obvious Answer Is…

Silly prompt. If you cant live without it it’s not a luxury. It’s a necessity.

But to bend a point, I’m not the sort who can’t do without the boob Tube, and I’m neutral some of the “luxury” items that wind up in the bathroom. I’m a pretty basic sort of guy.

A Cats Perspective On The Issue

Now my cats, Sabrina and Marcus, are sitting there glaring at me. “There is a Cat and Dog toy store that provides the most elegant small sachets filled with fresh, premium-grade Nip. Yes, the nip ordinaire we grow hereabouts is good. But their stuff is the finest kind! As our assistant, it behooves you to provide the finest luxury catnip and toys. After all, we work tirelessly for you. Yes, it is Noblesse oblige! But the least you can do is provide some essential luxuries.”

Daily writing prompt
What’s the one luxury you can’t live without?
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Variation

This small selection of treen (woodenware for cooking and eating) will be shipped later this week. I’ve finished the hand sanding with four hundred grit sandpaper and a final scraping of the spoon bowls. Right now, they are soaking up the first of at least two coats of mineral oil. I’ll ship them with a third light coat that can be wiped off after arrival. To use a term from boat work, the wood “takes up” the oil. The oil adds luster, but also protects the wood, and prevents penetration by what you are cooking into the wood.

But right now, my point in showing these to you is to illustrate how variable cherry can be. Each one of the blanks that I worked the spoons and spatulas from was a different hunk of cherry. Different ages and different growing conditions. The end result was wood that looks very different. Stuff made from plank stock doesn’t have this variation.

If a customer specifies a more uniform appearance I have a stock of Alleghany cherry planking that will provide a more uniform appearance; and it’s nice stock too! But I prefer our native New England cherry when I can get it, I consider the variability to be a plus. It’s not boringly uniform.

Depending on use and care, the cherry will darken. To keep it looking its best, don’t forget to give it a few drops of mineral oil once in a while; you’ll see the glow and the grain pop out again.

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What did You Call Me?

The tagline is supposed to sum it up—one word, two or three; something pithy. Wouldn’t it be nice if we could pick our own, and have folks joyously join in on agreement that my self-labeling as ” The Rock” was a perfect description. Instead, behind our backs, there are soft mutters of dufus, circle jerk, creep, toad, dipshsit, or worse.

Let’s face it. You should cut your losses and be happy if they call you by your given name – John, Mary, Todd or whatever.

Quit while you are ahead.

Daily writing prompt
If humans had taglines, what would yours be?
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Judy’s Number Game #75

And the number is 197:

I had a bunch today, but decided to pick these three, which are public art in Burlington, Vermont. The first is the flying Monkeys from the Wizard of Oz, then General John Stark, hero of the Revolutionary War, and this interesting torso alng a walkway.

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Fighting Words

You have no idea what it was like growing up in New York City, being a 130-pound skinny kid with a big mouth. Just try to talk the talk, and walk the walk, and have the bigger guys laugh. Right! What do you do? Whatever it is don’t sink into resignation! Turn bizarre! Much can be done with little.

I had a favorite tactic for verbal confrontations. Spanish. Wait, you say, you’ve always maintained that you don’t speak it. Right? Shockingly enough, you are correct. But that doesn’t mean that I couldn’t utilize the bits and pieces I was familiar with to mastermind situations that were in my favor. Where size won’t take you, talk can.

Here’s an example. Wade was a bully, but very sensitive. Any attempt to physically confront him was doomed. Unless I used verbal Judo to first unbalance him. We were frequently at each other’s throats, and confrontations were not uncommon. But unlike some others in our group, I frequently got the better of Wade. You ask for my secret? Fighting words.

Wade was a sucker for name calling. But it had to be really insulting. One night, I got him steaming by calling him “Una alcachofa.” To do this right, you have to sound right, look right, and gesture suggestively. There I was sneering, leering, and gesturing obscenely. And of course, referring to him in Spanish as an artichoke. He rushed right into my benign and righteous right fist.

Alcachofa is a good one. It has such a suggestive sound to it when you carefully pronounce each syllable slowly and with a foul innuendo – Al-co-cho-fa. Purse your lips as you say it, sneer and laugh a bit as you look at the person. If they are a bit inflammatory, you have one mad jerk wad lunging towards you.

Be ready!

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Music

I’ve been practicing again. Charlie has been down off the wall at least five times a week now for several weeks. Two or so nights ago, the cats were my audience while I practiced a John Cougar song. No, I’m not strictly about strictly defined folk music! The audience was enthusiastic, and Charlie thrummed, “When are we hitting the road?” I spent a bit of time tuning and responded, “I think we are through with that part of our lives.” “Yeah, but think about the patter we could coin! The last surviving “basket house” Folksinger from The Village, makes a comeback.”

Let’s be clear here. Intermittent asthma over the last decade has made a wreck of the already limited vocal tool I was gifted with at birth. The inhalers do that. So while I otherwise would consider some silly idiocy like what my guitar suggests, It’s not likely. Music is one of the most important things in life, but how many people will buy a CD or thumb drive of my stuff after the concert when I sound more like a cement mixer and less like a singer?

About this point, the two cats start acting like stereotypical groupies, but that’s just because it’s getting on towards ten p.m. and they want their treat before my wife leaves for work. I am familiar with the stereotype, and I keep on practicing Hotel California.

Max, the dog, starts howling. OK. That’s it, tomorrow I’ll search the internet and look for vocal exercises. I’ll try to regain some vocal control. I head to bed. It’s so wonderful having loving and supportive pets! And a great guitar.

At the pets conference

Max: I think the howling really did it. Now maybe he’ll take it seriously. I can see it now, fancy collars catered diners in fancy hotels. Interviews with Dogster Magazine!

Marcus: To hell with that I’ll be the male cat centerfold in Cat Fancy! I’ll provide intimate details on how he lives, how Sabrina and I edit all his material on the computer, and the near starvation of the days before he returned to the folkie circuit!

Sabrina: Such small aspirations, we’ll have our own groupies, Parishioners, so to speak. My least meow will excite them…about damnd time!

Charlie: Finally, new strings every week, a luthier to fix that crack, and a fresh lacquer job on the front. A successful star’s guitar has to look top-notch all the time!

Daily writing prompt
What are the most important things needed to live a good life?
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No More Tools!

I’ve been in the middle of a month-long workshop reorganization. It got to the point where I could no longer punt the job into the future. I went into the shop to get items that I knew were there, but they weren’t where they were supposed to be. There was a sort of pent-up demand for order that could no longer be refused!

Last month, I thought that I had turned the corner on the reorg and started working on the backlog of projects. Then I needed to find the pint of thinner I use for varnish, and couldn’t. This led to a reorganization of what is stored under the workbench.

Well in for a nickel, in for a dime. I decided to reorder the sandpaper yesterday. Do you have any idea how much sandpaper a woodworker’s shop typically has? I know that I didn’t. But after several hours, I have things roughly sorted out…all the sheet goods. I won’t even bother starting on the drum sanding goods.

I’ve stopped because the pent up frustration has gotten to much. Today I was supposed to finish some spoons, and work on the portrait of the ship Dreadnaught. Guess what I am pooped, pant, need a nap, snack and a break.

You’ve heard me describe my shop as ten pounds in a five pound bag? let’s make that twenty in a ten.

I solemnly swear, No more tools!

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Friends Like These

Right now it’s quiet. Sabrina is on a quest to locate her favorite toy, and Marcus has walked off to explore something wonderful to sleep on in Mother’s closet. I may get a few minutes alone without Sabrina vocally chiming in while I write, or Marcus hopping down onto the keyboard to make some urgent edit he feels essential.

Who do I spend the most time with? Well, yesterday I got to take my wife out on as close to a date as we get these days. We went to a local natural food store and then to a lovely confectioner‘s called Concord Teacakes. We sat, gazing out at the street scene passing by, and simply held hands. It was peaceful.

But I evade the issue. Who do I spend the most time with? I’d love to say it was my wife. But I’m in the office a lot, and she works nights and sleeps during the day…so it’s the cats.

Mind you, they take their duties seriously. Marcus is not afraid to be censorious when needed, and Sabrina hates the Harvard comma. Of course there is a price to be paid in treats.

I’ve held the line and refused to pay them by the word!

Daily writing prompt
Who do you spend the most time with?
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The Humble Spatula

It begins as a split of wood from what might otherwise be a hunk of cherry firewood. But I pick through as I stack and haul out every log that has “prospects.” I saw the wood into billets, the rough size for spoons and spatulas. All the scrap is winter-time kindling. Pieces with obvious and irreparable flaws are also discarded to be used as firewood. It’s a win-win situation. Nothing is wasted,

I then store the blanks against need, and will wind up working them anytime from half a year to two years after they cure. At any time, I’ve got a minimum of fifty blanks curing.

The Process

After curing, the blank is ready to be worked through a combination of carving, band sawing, and sanding. Before the final sanding, the rough products are boiled in water to raise the grain and expose any flaws I might have missed. Then they go on to final sanding and a submersion in Mineral Oil to seal them. The oil also brings out the grain characteristics of the wood.

Looking at a collection of my spoons and spatulas, you might ask, “Can you make anything with a straight handle?” Yes, I can, but there are some reasons why I only do it rarely. The most important reason is that, depending on how you cook, you are using the tool in different ways. I want to offer you a variety of gripping and holding spots so you can find what’s right for you. Please take a look at this spatula I’m making for a friend. It’s roughed out and will soon be tempered and finished. On the three views, you can see how the wood curves and bends. Most of my clients like the multiple grips and think that the undulations add visual and tactile appeal.

The other reason? Boredom. Producing a batch of wooden spoons and spatulas can be boring. To keep it interesting, I like to mix it up and see how I can make the shapes flow. And yes, Salvador Dali is my favorite artist!

Louis N. Carreras, Woodcarver

Authentic Nautical Accessories, and Custom Furnishings

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