I Made A Table!

Yes, my title is a reference to that awful Lou Reed/ Metallica song.

But no, I actually built a small altar table.  I was given a piece of oak that was pretty much a throwaway slab.  The cut of wood was near the outside of the trunk so it had not only sapwood, but part of the bark.  Here's how it started out.

Next, I cut it into an oval shape.  Here's the top.

And here is the bottom.

The edge of the slab, where the bark was, had a lot of wormholes.

I thought, "That's great!  It will make it more authentic."

Now that it was an oval shape, it was time to plain/grind/sand it into a table top.  In these photos I'm fast-forwarding past a lot of the boring sanding work.  So here's the top after all of that.

And here's the bottom.

Here are the final measurements.

29 inches long.

19 and a half inches wide.

And 2 3/4 inches thick.

And honestly it feels like it's about 50 pounds... at least.

Next, I had the help of my Father who turned small wooden legs on his lathe.  Again, we're fast-forwarding in the photos.  Here are the legs being glued into the table.

So once the glue had dried and set up, it was time to perform the fine sanding.  The table was already pretty smooth considering.  However, with the help of my electric hand sander the table became as smooth as glass.

Next came the finish work.  I've never been great at finish work.  In fact, I've been downright awful.  However, my Dad showed me a way to combine tung oil with a catalyst to give the table a beautiful finish.  Here's the photos after four coats of finish.

The tung oil finish really delivered what I wanted.  I didn't want a glossy finish, but I didn't want it to look bare either.  The tung oil gave me that perfect "in the middle" finish I was after.

I'm going to give the finish on the table plenty of time to completely harden.  After that it is going up for sale in a local shop.  I hope it'll be exactly what someone has always wanted.  Right now, it's off to the next table.  So I might be posting another blog about a table next month.

A Dog And His Boy

One of the reasons I started this blog so many years ago was not only to tell tales of destruction for fun and profit, but to write down all the stories I've collected.  After 600 blog posts I've told quite a number of my stories, so I thought it was time to write one about someone else.  Namely, my Father.

It was the summer of 1957.  My Dad was almost ready to turn eight years old.  He lived in the backwoods of West Virginia, so with the exception of automobiles and a black and white television, life still closely resembled 1857 in some ways.  I can hear his voice saying, "Come on, it wasn't that bad!"

There aren't many pictures of my Dad from that age, and the ones that exist are in rough shape.  But the first time I saw a photograph of my Father from that age I immediately said, "You look exactly like Timmy from Lassie!"

As was the norm back in those days my family had rabbit hunting dogs, namely beagles.  Now my Dad was not allowed to hunt until he was sixteen, but he did take care of the dogs as well as other duties on the farm.  So even though he hadn't quite turned eight years old, the duty to build a doghouse for his dog Penny fell to him.

You have to remember the times.  My Dad didn't have access to power tools.  If he wanted to cut a 2X4 he had to cut it with a handsaw.  If he wanted to hold the wood together he had to either drive a nail with a hammer, or use a screwdriver to run the screw through the wood.  He didn't have a power drill to do the hard work. 

My Grandfather had access to a lot of scrap wood from whatever carpentry project he was working on at the time (namely houses and bridges.) That meant my Dad didn't have to chop down a tree or anything like that. But when it came to the actual work, my Dad put it all together with old timey hand work.

Just for comparison, if you know a seven year old (going on eight,) ask what have they done lately? Does it involve playing Pokémon? Does it involve watching TV? Or have they performed any old time carpentry lately?
So Dad finished building the doghouse for Penny.  He was proud of his hard work.  But dogs and especially beagles are finicky creatures.  Remember how Snoopy liked to sleep on top of his doghouse?

Well, Penny decided to dig a hole underneath the doghouse and sleep there.

That's right.  She completely avoided the nice living space that Dad had built, and dug right underneath the doghouse to create a little den.  Penny must have thought she had a little wolf in her.  Honestly though, if you've never encountered a hunting dog, they are a bit different than a house dog.  They have a bit more attitude and aggression than your cocker spaniel house dog.  

Most people, especially kids, would have been discouraged or mad.  But that's never really been my Dad's style.  He just had to laugh about it, and realized a beagle is going to do what a beagle wants to do.  If Penny wanted to sleep in her little den beneath the doghouse then he figured she had made up her mind to do so.  Nothing he could do would change that. 

Also, could you get mad at a face like this?

Nah, didn't think so.