Accelerated Adaptation

I always think I have enough skill to carpenter, plumb or paint as needed around the house. We own few tools, though, and I’ve had little training so this unshakeable faith continues to mystify Marc, my family and the nearest emergency room staff.  After one adventure at our second house, though, the only thing injured was my pride. I wanted to build something—a bookshelf, probably. There was a four foot pinewood board in the back yard shed, a cross-cut saw and a sanding block.  So what if the final product wouldn’t make it into “Fine Woodworking Monthly”, I could still get ‘er done. I marked a 6 inch cutting line about 1 foot from the end of the board and upended it on the concrete driveway in the back yard.  I steadied the top end with one hand and sawed briskly for a moment, but the board kept skittering over the pavement. I braced the board with my right knee. That worked for an inch or two more until the saw bound in the cut. This time, I decided that going horizontal would be better, so I put the board across a metal picnic table we had tucked under the eaves of the back-room. Again I secured the board with my right hand. It slipped and slid all over the table top, so I swung my left knee on the near end of the board to weigh it down. I pushed down on the board’s far end with my right elbow and managed another inch or two before my strength failed. Our scrappy back yard was scattered with landscaping bits and pieces, one of which was a cinder block  pushed up against the fence. It had a center hole just wide enough to wedge the board into.  I shoved the board through it and hefted it on the table. I climbed onto the table, straddled the block with my shins tucked under me, and triumphantly completed the cut.  I looked up to see Marc leaning against the brick wall of the back-room, weak with laughter. “Watching you for the last ten minutes was like watching the evolution of man.” he said, “I was looking around for the monolith".

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