Epiphany

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Epiphany (n) 3. a. A sudden manifestation of the essence or meaning of something. b. A comprehension or perception of reality by means of a sudden intuitive realization
Epiphanies in wooddorking are not uncommon. They are posted here often enough, most of them having to do with a tool, material or process previously unknown or misunderstood by the poster, and then once having been experienced... well, we've seen how it goes. Sometimes it's a shy admission, when some dyed-in-the-wool (The phrase relates to the medieval method of adding dye to raw wool rather than to spun wool or finished cloth. The final colour was much more long lasting and deeply ingrained than dyeing at later stages of manufacture. If something is dyed-in-the-wool, it's unlikely to change) Normite (power-tool user) admits to the ethereal experience of wielding as simple a tool as a well-tuned plane. Other times the experience is borderline religious, such as when a long-awaited Lie-Nielsen (hate it when someone spells it Lie-Nielson, Lee-Neelson or heaven forbid Lye-Nealson) gee-gaw arrives at some addict^H^H^H^H woodworker's home and he/she first puts it to use. I myself may have been guiltly of one or two of those. But this evening's experience was nothing short of rebirth.
The last few weeks around our place (known to friends as "The Little House in the Hood," have been busy busy busy. There are fewer than eight weeks until another O'Deen is scheduled to pop outta SWIATAABOC and so feeling that deadline (though certainly not in any way shape or form that SWIATAABOC is a-feeling it) rapidly approaching, much as the launch window of a Mars-bound orbiter (ya only get a launch window every 26 months) seems to approach rapidly when your software development team has just changed over four thousand lines of code and characterized it as "a final tweak," has gotten me seriously into gear in rehabbing a 12x12 room that needs to be brought into at least the 1950's, if not this millenium alltogether.
So, in reaction to a big job with the results hitting so close to home (Momma wants a spiffy place for her baby), I did what most devoted husbands do - I finagled some tools. First and foremost was something serious to handle the demolition of rotted lath/plaster and a goodly number of chewed 2x4's (real 2x4 timbers, not the nominal dreck we've endured at lumber yards for decades). That tool was the heavy duty Milwaukee Sawzall with 360 degree rotating handle. It is a beast and did just what it needed to - destroyed everything and anything in its path. While it was satisfying to put such a behemoth to use, it was not worthy of an epiphany. I'd used various iterations (borrowed) on other jobs and so this version was no surprise. Still, a helluva saw, if not an outright extravagance.
And so now I am Joe Tradesman in that front room. But let's back a sec... ever since I was a pup, my old man had me helping him in his shop. We didn't do much fine wooddorking, mostly handyman things, plumbing, electrical, framing, some finish carpentry, a bit of masonry, auto repair... all swell activities that taught me how to build/fix/destroy things and develop an appreciation for well-made tools (and for putting 'em back when I was done with them). For a couple summers, I made beer money as a gopher for a couple local construction crews, mostly fetching other people's crap, but on many occasions I'd be left behind to finish some stair stringers, finish-out some fire blocks, etc.
Apply all that learning to your typical 'merican homeowner dude who would rather build than buy, and you've got 25+ years of knuckle-busting, cursing, whining, moaning... and a few victories/projects along the way. And yet today was the day it all came together for me.
Tonight I strapped-on and used my first honest-to-goodness top-grain 12-pocket genuine leather tool-belt. Whoopdeedoo, right? Wrong. I looked back on my life as a DIYer, and mourned the many wasted hours I spent beltless in a belted society. No time to dwell, however!!
I strapped that sucker on (just try to say/think the phrase "strapped on," without eliciting visions of some guy getting in a fighter jet, or perhaps some serious athlete putting his gear to take the field or skate out onto the ice.... ok, I can think of one case, but that's gotta be another news group and plus, she was young and needed the money) and right away I felt more in command of my surroundings. The last thing on my mind was the usual humming of a showtune as I worked. I swaggered out to the living room to show the missus just how studly I was and got a very approving look. I retreated to the project area and "loaded up." The combo square was first, just like in the pitcher I seen at the store. Then some pliers, no, two pair... three... screw it - two sets of side-nippers, a stripper, needlenose, blunt nose and a large pair for good measure. Next went the measuring tape, framing hammer, three punches, 14oz hammer, 16d nails, box nails, wire nuts and to complete the ensemble, two screwdrivers, utility knife and a yankee #41 pushdrill. Waaaaaaaaaaaaaahooooo. Another swagger out on the runway to show off to soccer-mom-in-training and the effect was complete. If she weren't already a girl in trouble, there would have been rumbling in the hood.
What a concept. No hunting for all my shit! No more putting something on a ledge somewhere and forgetting where the hell it is. Ah, the sweet, sure, secure pleasure of slapping the wire stripper back in its pouch, like a gunfighter returning his trusty Colt 44 to its holster, feeling the quiet *snick* as the cool metal finds its home in the refined leather. So what that the weight and additional sag added another two inches to the alarming plumber's butt crack around back... I can't see it, so screw 'em. Didn't matter that climbing the ladder with 20lbs of gear made it creak under more than the usual tonnage. I was SOMEBODY.
I quietly spent a most satisfying two hours wiring-up some single pole switches (light switches, for those of you who don't have tool belts) and getting ready to finish up the electrical in preparation for insulation and then sheetrocking before the launch window closes... all because of a tool belt. I hung it up on a nail, everything still tucked away, ready for use at my next whim... my mobile, custom wrap-around toolbox. It hung there smartly. It was, well... well-hung. I'm likin' that.
I remain,
O'Deen
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You do, indeed. Well told, as usual.
Good to see you again, Pat.
Michael Latcha - at home in Redford, MI
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Folks, we have here the next Tom Watson. (Gee I hope Tom isn't offended.) Well Spoke, young man. Now get back to work! You ain't got time for all this philosophising. That's for the old farts :)
DonkeyHody "I'd rather expect the best from people and be wrong than expect the worst and be right."
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"DonkeyHody" wrote in message

DAGS ...
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Do a little googlin'. He was Tom Watsoning before Tom Watson was Tom Watson.
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My apologies to all. I just assumed he must be fairly young with his references to getting ready for a new baby and all. Well, you see what happens when we ass-u-me. Anyway, I enjoyed his epiphany.
DonkeyHody
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Uhh, I think you may have that backwards.
--

Larry Wasserman Baltimore, Maryland
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"Odeen" wrote in message

Reading that with the proper reverence, and a couple hundred "Our Norm, who art n' heaven, hallowed be thy tool belt..." oughta get someone out of Limbo before they close it.
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Harrumph!
I have a construction/destruction toolbelt that I use for, well, it's an eponymous toolbelt.
I have a drywall toolbelt.
I have an electrical toolbelt.
I have a tower climbing toolbelt.
No one toolbelt can possibly do it all, as your buttcrack will attest.
In fact, in some cases, (electrical, in my case) it can't do it at all. I wound up with so many electrical specific tools that my first and second electrical pouches just didn't have room, and the second was a big Klein--they of all people...
I finally bought a bag that seemed well designed. First of all, it's off my hips...especially nice for those trips through the attic. Second of all, I now have at least twice as many things in it than I ever could have gotten on a belt mounted pouch. And I still can't find a good spot for my torque screwdriver.
Enjoy it while you can. From your description, I predict the very next tool will be like the last 10 gm disk on the balsa wood bridge. You won't be able to get up (not to be confused with the affliction from which you apparently do not suffer).
--
LRod

Master Woodbutcher and seasoned termite
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It's just going to end up in your "garage" where it will never be seen again.
(do the doors close yet?)
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I figure he'll cut it in half with the sawzall, at some point.
John
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Maybe he can make himself a new one out of zebrawood...
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I have a leather holster that I use with my cordless drill. I was working on something one day and found that I had to go to the Borg to buy some more screws. I stuck my head in the house to tell LOML where I was headed and she suggested that maybe I ought to take the drill holster off and dust some of that sawdust off my jeans. It reminded me of the old Johnny Cash song where the mother begged her son, "Don't take your guns to town, Son. Leave your guns at home."
No way I was going to remove the holster or the sawdust. They gave this desk jockey a little credibility as a man capable of taking care of himself and his family. That's part of the reason I drive a pick-up truck. I want to at least look like I might be able to earn a living with my hands.
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"Olebiker" wrote in message

You're in good shape then, particularly if you can effect the butt crack boogie convincingly. In this day and age the "look" is becoming all the qualification required ... just check out your congress critters and CEO's at the other end of the spectrum. ;)
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Swingman wrote:

You misspelled speculum.
HTH, hand.
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Speaking of "plumber's cleavage". I happened to see the end of an Oprah show the other day. Oprah waved goodbye and the audience jumped to their feet in applause. I saw one woman in the front row stand up and glory be! she had a HUGE butt crack hanging out there. She frantically grabbed her belt and pulled to cover it up, but not before the camera caught the action.
Say what you will, Oprah's audience is very diverse.
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Why don't they design a tool belt with a bit of extra leather to cover up that inevitable crack...or, at least minimize it?! Also, why not some special plumber's jeans with extra strategically placed denim and save us all the agony...
Layne
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Layne wrote:

Think "Long Tail Shirt":
<http://www.duluthtrading.com/
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Next thing ya know, it'll be one (or more) of these:
<http://www.leevalley.com/wood/page.aspx?c=1&pF962&cat=1,43326,43329>
;-)
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Dave Balderstone wrote:

did you?
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