A Cinnabon in Omaha

…and other tidbits.

Who’s a chip off the ol’ block?


Zach’s chair instruction. Note his disdain for the knot. The kid’s a natural, just like his old man.

  • Speaking of predilections, MLB would have been a very good concert pianist. His hands fan out like a pterodactyl’s wings and he has an ear for things classical. His tragic flaw, though, would have been his tendency to be continually distracted by the construction details of both instrument and stage.

  • A THANK YOU to Unplugged Shop for organizing and listing posts for like-minded people who would rather use a handsaw than a power saw.

  • The bridge we have been working on (the span is pictured below) will have no positive camber. It doesn’t need it, I have been told, unless they’re expecting heavy vehicular traffic between the spa and the inn. Positive Camber is more of an album name than a band name–think 70’s “van rock”.


Like a bridge over troubled, pumped and recycled, water.

  • Scribe rule, square rule, mill rule, O’Doyle Rules! These are different framing layout techniques. Our bridge uses ’em all (excepting mill rule–it just seemed the right thing to say at the time).

  • The key is to make your exodus from Douchebury as soon as you realize you’ve been there. I have frequented the cafes there too often myself.

  • The subject of chisel ferrules came up the other day while we were banging out mortises. Michael had a great suggestion for using a 1″ pipe coupling (with threads) for a robust ferrule. I mean to try that, though my chisel is temporarily ferruled with hockey tape. And by “temporarily” I mean indefinitely. Hockey Tape Feral–acoustic Canadian punk.

  • The sound progression from saw to mallet to paring with a chisel, it’s…music.

  • I reckon we’re about a fortnight til the chorus of spring peepers fills the evening air.


Trenail soup. Add seasoning to taste.

  • I’m working with uneven surfaces here, said John O., somewhat skeptically, in reference to our hewing.

  • Someday, some way, we’ll get to finishing up our story about our Duxbury Tree House. It’s just that there have been SO many things going on in the interim, he said whining.

  • It’s so damned easy to respond to ugly with more ugly. That’s why there’s a bucket of wisdom in a friend’s recent blog post.

  • A HUGE thanks to Pine, Alex, et al, of the Jones River Landing for putting up with our noise, our bad jokes, and our tracking of sawdust and wood chips between the coffee machine and the bathroom. You have been the best hosts ever. We promise to clean up after ourselves.

  • Thanks also to Peter Arenstam and Don Heminitz for moving the boat, Merry Wing from the Jones River Landing shop so us landsmen framers could do our plumb and square work.


Trial fitting of post to plate.

  • We’ve had several very nice folks visit our work at the Landing. It feels good to share what we’ve been up to. Sometimes, however, the ambient noise makes for interesting dialogue:

Me: Where are you from?

Roy: No thank you. 


Saw horse horseplay. NSFW

  • In the day, our friend, the talented S.W.B. used to call the tail-end of our department’s meeting minutes “tidbits”. Things like, repair Cooke chimney boot-daub, plug hole in Hopkins thatch, and fix cow-pen would be hastily scrawled in a notebook which, ultimately, no one would refer to. With his head for organization and numbers, his acumen for hand tools and honest toil, and his decency and simple human compassion, I submit that Mr. B. would make a superlative CEO for a small to medium-sized non-profit. 

  • The things you learn at the Jones River Landing: Glass eels and elvers (immature eels) are a delicacy in parts of Asia. Mass guys and Mainers will poach them under cover of darkness from our rivers and sell them to Japan, who, in turn, will continue to grow them until they re-sell them to China. Needless to say, this is a bad thing, not only for the eel population but for the ecosystem generally. Such slippery international drama on the soporific South Shore: Who knew?


MLB’s shop in transition. Books on the bench and shavings on the floor. That about sums it up.

  • I found myself literally on the edge of my seat, mouth agape, watching the final episodes of Breaking BadJesse’s fantasy about woodworking was made all the more poignant by his descent into hell.


  • There was also this found somewhere online:


  • This made Saul’s comic relief all the more hilarious: If I’m lucky, three months from now, best case scenario, I’m managing a Cinnabon in Omaha.

  • And finally–


There are no words.


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