NOW I know what Chris meant...

In the opening chapter of his new book, The Anarchist's Tool Chest, Chris Schwarz mentions an interview with Graham Blackburn, and refers to him as one of his, "woodworking heroes."

I don't know about you, but from where I sit, that is quite the compliment. It made ME come to attention, anyway.

As it just so happens, today was the first day of a two-day seminar the St. Louis Woodworkers Guild is hosting with Graham Blackburn here in St. Louis. Since tomorrow is my wife's very first Mother's Day, I was only able to attend half of the seminar (today), but I felt it would be worth paying for the whole weekend, even if I could only attend a part of it.

I was right. And now I know why Chris calls Graham one of his woodworking heroes.

The seven hours of the first day that sixteen members of our guild spent in a room in the Creve Coeur Community Center seemed to fly by. I spent a lot of time frantically writing down quips and tidbits of information Graham threw out like he was overseeding a lawn.

He had so many great ideas and concepts that were just one- or two-line comments, like, "Jigs and guides make your work more accurate. The use of hand tools is not synonymous with 'Free Hand'," and "You cannot plane anything flatter than the flatness of your plane."

Which was shortly followed up by...

"You cannot flatten anything flatter than your sharpening stone."

I have a lot more in my notebook, but I'll probably have to read through it a few times to absorb the information before I write on it with any clarity. But I do want to share one part of today's session with you.

One of the first major topics we touched on was hand saws. He started off by asking how many of us had just two or three saws in our shop. It ended up being most of us. Then he spent a few minutes going into just how many different saws there were, from rip to cross-cut, back-saw to coping saw, dovetail to hack saw, and even how there were several different versions of each kind so that you could easily have 12 or 15 or more saws and actually use most of them at some point in the course of a year of making furniture.

Then he said he felt the reason hand saws have fallen into disuse is because nobody knows how to sharpen saws anymore!

(Still partially overwhelmed by the fact that I might need to know when to use 15 different saws, I had another possible reason in mind...)

He then pulled out a Lie-Nielsen dovetail saw to discuss one of the more common saws we might have in our shop. He said the saw in his hand, like many of the dovetail saws on the market today, was a copy of the old Tyzack dovetail saw and that he wished he had one to show us because they were such great things to behold.

I opened up the portable tool chest I'd brought with me, pulled out an old maroon hand towel, unrolled it to produce a very small dovetail saw with great patina and rounded teeth and said, "You mean like this one?"

It was the saw I'd picked up at the Woodworking In America conference last October, the slightly smaller brother to Kari's (link possibly only visible if you're Kari's friend on FB) brass-backed Tyzack dovetail saw. And Graham got to use it as his prop for discussion on saw sharpening and sharpening techniques.

Shortly after that, we broke for lunch. But before we did so, he offered to help me practice sharpening with my little Tyzack dovetail saw if I wanted!

Let's see... personal help from Graham Blackburn on sharpening my dovetail saw? Yeah, I guess I could go for that.

Given several limitations (a saw vise that wouldn't totally clamp my saw blade properly, a triangle file that was a bit too big, and some pretty crap-tastic lighting), I think I did a pretty good job! He tried it out and agreed it was definitely a much more usable saw than when we'd first started out.

So I have a little more work to do on it. Not a big deal. I checked this evening and the saw vise I recently picked up from John Zimmers holds the blade perfectly. So once I get a triangular file that is the proper size, I'll finish taking down a few leveled teeth and be done. But even without the additional work, I'm happy to have a nice little saw that makes fine dust with the absolute lightest touch possible!

We spent the rest of the day talking about hand planes and sharpening techniques. I'll have to save those topics for a different blog post, but I definitely want to talk about it because there is some great information in my little spiral notebook.

I'm a little disappointed I'm going to have to miss tomorrow's session. But I have my priorities straight, and spending time with these two wonderful people is the most important thing I could do on Mother's Day.

I guess I'll just have to catch Graham at Mark Adam's school some time in the future, right? :)

Purple Reign

So after a week of silence, I bet you thought I was already off the blogwagon, didn't you? You also probably thought I'd not done anything further with the shop.

Both not true.

Progress Report:
1. I've finished hanging the lights. They are bright! Yeah! They're wired so I can have overhead light just over the area where the workbench will be or I can have light over the rest of the room or I can have both (or none, I suppose...). Also have can lights against the back wall where I plan on installing a bank of base cabinets. I have plenty of outlets along the walls, so I can use portable lights for when I need to create a raking effect.
2. I've narrowed down flooring selection. Hopefully this week I'll be able to view samples of the three or four I'm going to choose from and will be able to put in the order. Would like to get the flooring ordered this week so I can get it into the room to acclimate for a few days prior to install. We'll be pushing this part to the wire. In the mean time...
3. *sigh* The walls. Ugh, I hate purple. So far, the exercise room purple walls, painted by the previous home owner, have defeated me. After three (3) coats of KILZ, I can still see a hint of it coming through. Is it because they painted virgin concrete? Is it purple paint coloring from Hell? Why can't I get it covered up? I'm going to let my third (3rd) coat dry for more than 24 hours and then I'll go down again and see what it looks like. Maybe I'll paint a test area with the semi-gloss top coat to see if it is giving me good coverage.

Wish me luck. And toss any advice my way you might have on painting purple walls.

Oh, and I had an interesting idea for the box commission I recently received. I'll toss some photos/descriptions at the person requesting the box to see what he thinks. If he likes it, I'll start working on dimensions and details. Don't worry; I'll probably let you know what I'm going to do.

Cruel And Unusual Punishment?

One would think seeing such a display in an in-box would bring tears to the eyes of the average woodworker. I mean... an e-mail from Konrad Sauer could very likely mean some type of infill smoothing plane is in the works, right? And who doesn't want to hear from Chris Schwarz on a lazy Friday morning? Or any morning of the week, for that matter.

Alas, the Konrad and Chris in the in-box displayed above are not the plane-making and woodworking gurus you might be thinking of. In this case, Konrad is the Team Lead of a report-writing division and Chris is a member of a technical support team at the software company that keeps food on my table. And I work with these two quite often in my capacity as a software support specialist.

But up until this last week, I hadn't seen their names so close together. To be honest, as I stared at my in-box, wasting a few minutes of my day thinking about what I'd rather be doing, I did find a tear in my eye...

A Forgotten Project Gets Remembered...

A few months ago, before I started the whole basement shop rebuild, I'd started working on a fixing up an old egg beater drill I found at an estate sale for $3. It isn't quite as good a quality as my other hand drills - it does have a rosewood handle on the turning gear, but the main grip is a gold-colored metal (though it does unscrew to allow for drill bit storage) - but it didn't look to be in too bad a shape and I figured I could clean it up and give it a way to another woodworker who might need it.

Well, I'd started on it back then but got distracted with something or another and forgot about it. This evening, I stumbled across it again as I was sorting through some tools to start thinning some chisels from the collection and decided to take a half hour to finish it up.

Unfortunately, I didn't remember to take any pictures of the first part of the process, which was to remove the chuck, disassemble it, and clean up the three jaws. They had about a hundred years of grime, gunk, and build-up in them and the action wasn't as smooth as it should be. The only caution I would mention with this part is to wrap something around your vice clamps or pliers to make sure you don't mar any parts of the chuck when you disassemble it. Oh, and remember to unscrew it the right way - lefty-tighty, righty-loosy in this case.

Once the chuck was disassembled, I took a small dowel rod, wrapped some green scouring pad around it, sprayed it with WD-40 and scrubbed the inside of the chuck assembly with it. Then I took some 600 grit wet/dry sandpaper and cleaned up the three jaws. I re-greased the inside of the chuck with some lithium grease and then re-assembled it.

The next step was to disassemble the rest of the drill. This one came apart quite easily - one screw removed the handle and one screw removed the little tab that holds the main gear in place. After it was disassembled, I got out an old toothbrush and some low-odor mineral spirits and started scrubbing everything down. I went after some of the tougher spots with the green scouring pad.

After a bit of work, alternating between the green pad and the old toothbrush, I could see more detailed information about the drill. (Forgive my lack of macro pictures - the new camera doesn't have very good macro capability.) I found two marks of interest. On the chuck, I found a patent date of 1895. On the handle, I found an image of an oak leaf with the words, "WmEnder Oak Leaf" inscribed inside it.

A little internet searching turned up a small amount of information on William Ender. He worked for Simmons Hardware Co., a St. Louis-based hardware company(looks like this drill hasn't traveled very far). You might be more familiar with Simmons' Keen Kutter line of products. Ender was a V.P. in the company and developed his own line of products under the Oak Leaf name. I found an old court document in my search where William was listed as a witness in a legal action Simmons had against the city of St. Louis in 1917, so this drill probably dates to somewhere around that time. I say this because once he left Simmons, he marketed his tools under the Ender product name and not Oak Leaf.

Anyway... I continued scrubbing the drill with the toothbrush, making sure to clean up the teeth on the gear. Here you can see part of the drill sitting on a distant cousin of Chris Schwarz's affectioned "Woobie". I've only ever used this red rag in the process of cleaning old tools, however, so I'm not sure I would want to wipe down one of my hand planes with it before I put it away. After removing a lot of dirt and gunk, I was down to bare metal in several places. Maybe I'll take the time later to more aggressively scrub it and apply a new coat of paint, but for now a good cleaning was enough.

I put a bit of grease back in the hole where the gear spins, threaded the chuck back on, screwed the tab and handle back on and chucked in a drill bit to give it a test. The action on the chuck is a lot smoother now and the drill spins very easily. A test hole in a scrap of mahogany provides evidence of its function.

This was a quick, easy repair project and a fun way to take $3 and turn it into something very useable in the shop. Breathing life back into an old tool is also a great way of "going green", if you're into that sort of thing.

After a bit of pondering, I probably will take the time to disassemble the drill again, scrub it down even more and repaint it a gloss black (the original color, per the remaining paint I can see) and then give it away to someone. If I actually do follow through with that idea, I'll be sure to post a comparrison picture or two.

A New Inlay Idea...

I want to try out a new inlay idea on some of the boxes I'm making. Pretty soon I have to start getting ready for a Jim Malcolm concert, but I did have a little time this afternoon to get down into the shop and work on the first few steps, so I thought I would share that with you.

After laying out cut-outs of my idea on paper, I went through my stock to choose the wood I was going to use. I narrowed it down to holly (very white and with practically no grain) and then either bog oak or blackwood. The blackwood really has the darker color, which is what I'm ultimately looking for, but the blackwood I have would limit the size of my inlay. I think the bog oak will be dark enough once I add a little bit of boiled linseed oil to it, and it would allow for two pieces of inlay in the larger dimensions I wanted.

In the end, I couldn't decide, so I went ahead and prepared both of them. I'm always up for trying new things out and this seemed like a great opportunity to play around.

I already had my blackwood and bog oak thicknessed so I just needed to get a piece of the holly prepared. I didn't take any pictures of it, but you didn't miss anything. Since it was the first time I'd used the board, I took my Stanley #6 and jointed one edge. Then I used the tablesaw to rip off a strip that was about 1/8" thick. I cut a section off the strip that was the same size as the blackwood and then cut another section off that was a tad longer than the bog oak.

The blackwood was already 1/8" thick, so I didn't need to plane down that piece of holly, but the bog oak was a little more like 3/32" thick, so I took the block plane to the other piece of holly to get it flush with the bog oak.

The setup here is a piece of oak board (unfinished wide-plank flooring, in case you are wondering) with two brass screws sunk just shy of flush. I pressed the holly up against the screws and then planed towards them. Pressure keeps the strip in place. It didn't take much to get me down to 3/32" thick.

Then I needed to joint all of the matching edges. As you might have seen before, I like to do this with a Stanley #5 turned upside down on my bench. With that setup, I can easily run the strips of wood over the plane with control. I don't generally use any guide blocks to make sure the edge is exactly 90 degrees - you'd be amazed how well your mind can figure it out on its own.

After just a few minutes, all four pieces were jointed. If you're new to planing, this kind of work makes you feel REALLY good. It doesn't take much to get a small pile of curly shavings collected under the plane.

The only other thing I had time for today was the glue-up. Since this is inlay, and once I have it in the box there will be no stresses applied to the joint, I just needed to lightly clamp the pieces in place for a bit.

After a little thought, I accomplished this with the use of my bench hook. I pushed it into place on the bench, covered it with a piece of waxed paper, and then clamped a strip of wood parallel to the fence of the bench hook at the far end. With the addition of two filler strips (these three pieces are spanish cedar, waiting around for another project) and two shims I grabbed from my toolbox, I was ready to go.

I glued up the inlay pieces, set them into place, and then used the two shims to wedge the filler strips tight against the inlay. Again, I just need a good enough glue joint to keep everything together until I get it inlaid into the box, so I just tightened up the shims with hand pressure.

I'll let this sit for a day while I get kilted up for Jim Malcolm and hopefully I'll find some time tomorrow to work on the next part of the inlay.

Fuming... (Oak, Not Mad)

Of the six boxes I currently have in progress, four of them are made with some of the reclaimed white oak I got from an old house on our family farm. Having been a while since I'd done any fuming, I thought I would take the opportunity to pull out my supply of Ammonium Hydroxide and make some chemical reactions happen.

Before I begin, I would like to offer a few words of caution...

Ammonium Hydroxide is a seriously dangerous chemical and should be handled with caution. As the warning on the bottle says, don't allow it, or the fumes, to come in contact with eyes or skin and don't ingest it. I'll add to those warnings that if you have any open cuts exposed to the air, you should make sure and cover them, as well.

I never work with ammonium hydroxide in a closed environment - always out on the patio or my driveway. I use full-coverage chemical-resistant eye goggles and a partial-face respirator rated for organic vapors (my mask uses 3M's 6001 filter). This is not the kind of respirator filter you will ever find at Home Depot or Lowe's (read the warning labels on the filters - they all specifically say they are not rated for organic vapors), though you can get them on-line easily enough. I happen to be married to a woman who has to have one just in case she is sent to a site for groundwater sampling that requires it, so... mine was free. I use the blue nitrile gloves because they are chemical resistant (and because I'm a cuticle biter and my fingers BURNED the first time I tried this without using nitrile gloves, hence the additional warning about cuts exposed to the air).

That said, woodworking is full of dangerous tools. If you don't take the time to become familiar with the tools you're using (whether they be mechanical or chemical), then you should fully expect to receive some time of injury at some point in your woodworking career. Have respect for and an understanding of your environment and you will decrease your chances of getting hurt. Now back to the blog...

My basic fuming setup is simple. I don't bother with wooden frame and plastic sheet tents. They're too easily damaged and something you don't want is a leak in your fuming tent.

Instead, I use an old Igloo chest cooler (which became obsolete after I purchased one of those wonderful 5-day coolers several years ago). It has an air-tight lid and is plenty big enough to fume several boxes at once.

It came with an open mesh basket that sits on a lip at the top of the cooler. I pour my ammonia into a plastic sour cream container, set it into the bottom of the cooler, and then turn the mesh basket upside down and place it over the container. That allows me to set boxes directly on top of the basket and not worry about tipping the container over.

I always fume several cutoffs from the same boards I used to make the boxes. These become test pieces for determining what finish I will use later on.

Once I get the ammonia inside and cover it with the basket, I place my boxes on top of the basket and lean my sample pieces against the side. Then I close it up tight, put a few pieces of painter's tape across the lid and tape a note on top that indicates I am fuming wood inside (to prevent me or my wife from accidentally opening the cooler). In order to get the best results, the container should be kept in a warm or hot environment. In the summer, nothing is hotter than my garage. Yesterday and today have been notably cool, so I was a bit concerned with how it would turn out.

It was, however, wasted emotional energy. As you can see, after 24 hours in the fuming tent the oak has darkened quite a bit. The wood in the lower part of the picture to the right is un-fumed white oak from the same board; in the middle are my sample pieces; at the top are my two boxes.

This image is also useful to point out how heartwood is affected by the ammonia much more than sapwood. Had I used sapwood in either of the two boxes I fumed (I specifically did not fume one of the four boxes based on a small amount of sapwood in one side), I would have some creative fixing to do with dyes and stain when I reached the finishing stage.

Before I do anything else with these boxes, I have to let them off-gas for at least 24 hours. After that, I'll work with my sample pieces to see what finish works best. I have some idea as to what I want to do, but I always test it out on sample pieces because each batch of wood can react differently to the ammonia. But generally, it involves a coat of BLO (boiled linseed oil) and a few light coats of amber or garnet shellac, depending upon how dark I want it to look in the end.

I will most likely spend some time with an inlay or two in these boxes, however, so I have some time before I worry about a finish.

Maybe while I'm in the fuming mood, I'll run some sample pieces for you to show you what other kinds of wood I've fumed and take pictures of what these woods look like fumed and un-fumed.

If you plan on trying to fume a woodworking project in the future and have any questions, let me know. I'll be happy to share whatever knowledge I have with you.

Prepare to be jealous...

Today was a productive woodworking day and I haven't even put edge to wood yet (hopefully I'll do some of that later this evening).

Before we start with what I did this morning, we have to go back to last night, when I got a phone call from my little brother (who happens to also be a woodworker). He informed me of a tool and wood sale going on down by our older brother's house. It is part of the estate of a woodworking mentor of ours, Pops, who passed away a few years ago - his wife is finally able to let go of some of his stuff.

This morning, I left the house a little later than I wanted to and didn't end up getting there until 10:00 a.m. After spending some time visiting with his widow, I helped her price a few more things (I provided her with the list of prices for most of the woodworking tools she had for sale) and bring some of the heavier objects out of Pops' shop to sit outside in the driveway.

And then I was finally able to poke through the shop and pick out a few tidbits for myself. I ended up walking away with a #51 Spokeshave (for my friend, Alex, who'd asked me to keep an eye out for a spokeshave), a Richard Kell dovetail marker, an older brass bevel gauge from Woodcraft (for determining the angles of chisel and plane blade bevels), a pair of older Stanley #4 trammel points, a very sweet looking Stanley (?) 3" square with a rosewood handle, a quality hardbound sixth printing of James Krenov's The Fine Art of Cabinetmaking, a hardbound edition of Michael Dunbar's Restoring, Tuning, and Using Classic Woodworking Tools, and a Swiss made carving chisel.

While I was in the area, I couldn't miss out on the chance to visit with my older brother and my niece and nephew. Even though we only live 40 minutes apart, I don't get to see enough of them these days. It is something I want to try and change, though, because I miss seeing them.

I headed back in the general direction of home. On the way, I made a stop over at Alex's house to drop off his spokeshave - he seemed pleased.

Upon pulling into the driveway, however, I noticed a package sitting on the front porch. I was fully expecting it within the next few days and pleasantly surprised to see it had already shown up. After parking my truck, I grabbed the package, ran inside, and opened it to reveal...

The latest book by Chris Schwarz, Handplane Essentials. I paid the slightly higher full price and ordered my copy from Lost Art Press. John and Sharon provide the greatest customer service and I enjoy supporting such practices by purchasing from them when I can.

But as you can see, I also received a bit of a bonus (here is where you should prepare to be jealous...). Not only is the book signed by Chris Schwarz, it is also the one and only copy that is artistically decorated by his daughter, Katy, with a drawing of her sock monkey. I do believe this makes the top of my list for the week.

Alas, I had to put my blog entry on hold for a few hours while we had supper, went for a nice long walk and enjoyed some freshly cut watermelon, so I wasn't able to get into the shop and work on the boxes as I wanted to. That will be my task for first thing tomorrow morning. And I've taken some pictures of a few techniques I wanted to share, so I'll post something on those ideas, as well.

No crackers, Gromit! We've forgotten the crackers!

Some time during my third year of college, a friend of mine introduced me to Wallace and Gromit, claymation comedy from the U.K. It didn't quite meet up to the standards of Ren and Stimpy or the soon-to-be-released South Park, but it gave them a good run for their money. The lines Wallace had (especially about the cheese) were simply the best, though, and I wouldn't pass up the opportunity to watch a bit more if it came along.

But for now, I must placate myself by introducing you to a different Wallace. Fellow woodworkers and bloggers, meet my new Wallace 8" jointer...

This Delta-gray and slightly dusty machine comes to me by way of Craig's List, one of the best inventions of man since eBay. It wasn't necessarily what I would call a "steal", but for an 8" jointer, I think it was a pretty good price. Besides, I think the old adage that they don't make them like they used to can be most often applied to woodworking machines. This machine, coming from the late 1930's/early 1940's (most likely - I plan on researching it as much as possible in the coming weeks), is now my oldest, pushing my 1950 Rockwell Drill Press into second place.

Here's another way of looking at it... this is the epitome of "green woodworking"! I'm taking something that was made more than seventy years ago and renewing it and putting it to good use! So really, this is my way of doing my part to help save the planet.

It sits on a mobile base that originally came from a Delta 8" jointer. The previous owner (well, his dad, really) made some slight modifications to accommodate the Wallace. It seems quite comfortable there. The engine is not original - it is a Dayton 1hp single-phase (1725 RPM) motor. It is also not currently hooked up as I took these pictures after unloading it from the truck.

Due to work constraints, I wasn't able to get to the seller's house until some time after 7:00 PM this evening. So by the time we got it loaded, watched two B-1 stealth bombers fly a couple of routes overhead while making an appearance at the MLB All-Star Game, talked a bit about all of the old iron I saw around me, and finally made it back home, it was close to 9:00. While supper was cooking, I quickly ran outside to figure out the best way of getting the jointer and base from the back of the pickup without putting myself into the back of an ambulance.

In the end, I decided to take the mobile base out first and set it up. Then I could drop down the tailgate, push the base up to the gate, and slide the jointer off the gate and onto the base. It worked like a charm! It might have taken me less time to unload than it took to load!

The paint job looks good. The fence and beds seem to adjust properly.Hopefully, all I'll really need to do to get her back up and running at full speed is to sharpen the knives (or replace them).

I'll post an update or two as more information becomes available.

Hand Plane Class, Part Two...

I wasn't really sure what to expect when I signed up for the Hand Plane class at the Marc Adams School of Woodworking. I knew quite a bit of it would be lecture and discussion, and I was fine with that, but I also wanted to actually use the hand planes I'd brought and get any advice or tips I could from Chris Schwarz or Tom Lie-Nielsen.

I wasn't disappointed; in fact, it was more hands-on than I thought it would be. We started off with a discussion on sharpening and then went back to our benches to sharpen our plane blades. Then we had a discussion on setting up our planes and went back to our benches to set them up. Chris pointed to two stacks of wood. He said the stack on the left was for practice but not to take any wood from the other pile as that would be used for a contest on the second day. I grabbed a piece from the first stack and started planing.

Towards the end of the first day, I'd already sharpened my blades and was tired of planing wood, so I pulled out the Record 043 Plough Plane I'd also brought along and worked on its 1/4" blade. Using our new sharpening techniques (flatten the face to 1000 grit and then use the ruler trick to take the very edge of the face to 8000 grit; honing the secondary bevel of 30 degrees on a primary bevel of 25 degrees), it didn't take me long at all to get a nice sharp edge on it. I then grabbed the board Alex and I had been practicing with and spent less than two minutes ploughing a groove.

A little later, I brought it up to Chris to see what he thought of the plane. He promptly ploughed another groove into a piece of oak and gave it a passing stamp. The only suggestion he offered was to add a wooden fence to it that would make it longer and help it glide along the edge of the board better. I have several pieces of lignum vitae set aside for just that purpose.

On the morning of the second day, we had a discussion on putting a camber on plane blades and then we once again went back to our benches to actually camber the blades of our planes. Using my Mark II, without the camber roller, I couldn't get a good one on my blade, so I had to borrow Alex's blade guide. Fortunately for both of us, Alex apparently cambered his blades the day before, so he didn't need to use the guide. Since I already have the Mark II, I'll probably contact Lee Valley within the next week or so to order the camber roller.

Before lunch on day two, Chris announced the "Flattest Board Contest of 2009" would take place after a brief discussion right after lunch. I left my bench to go to lunch, thinking I would be lucky if I could get one face flat, much less all four faces flat and square. Winning the contest never occurred to me as a possibility.

Something else that never occurred to me was to go back to the classroom early and pick through the pile of boards to find one that would be easier to plane. I think a few others might have had this idea, however, as a third of the pile of boards was relocated to various benches in the classroom by the time lunch was over.

While Chris spoke to us about using the camber when planing edges, Jeff (one of the staff members at MASW) passed out the contest wood to the people who didn't already have it. At first glance, my board didn't look too bad. I turned it over to find a fairly nasty knot and knew my chances of winning just got smaller. But I checked for cup and grabbed my #5 and started at the high spots.

After less than a minute, the high spots were pretty much gone! I checked it with a square and it was about as flat as I thought I was going to get it. I switched over to the #604 1/2 and started smoothing the first face. And that was when the magic of a cambered blade hit me! I could take off a pencil line with just a swipe of the plane! After the first face was done, I worked on the first edge. It was even easier. I checked for square and found one side just a little high. I adjusted the position of my plane to put the biggest part of the camber on the high spot. Two passes later, it was dead flat and square to the first face. I repeated those steps on the second edge and then flipped the board to the second face - the one with the knot.

It really wasn't that bad. After a few minutes, I took the board up to Chris to check. He marked one edge with a smiley face (meaning it was good), made a few minor pencil marks on the other edge and on both faces. Mostly it was just the removal of a minor ridge - really, just taking off the pencil line. He said if he was going to use the board for a project that it would have been good enough at that point, but this was a contest about perfection, so he wanted me to work on it a little more.

I took off the lines with just a few passes, squared up the second edge at one point that had a ridge and brought it back up for another check. The other edge and one of the faces got OK'd. I looked around and saw everyone else feverishly planing away, many on the first face or edge. That was when it hit me that I might actually have a good chance of winning the contest!

I quickly walked back to my bench and clamped the board back down to work on two small lines on the knotty face. I then popped the board back off the bench and ran up front. After a minute of careful scruteny, I got my fourth smiley face!

The board in the picture here might not look like much to most people, but it means a whole lot to me. So much, in fact, that I took the board home (how could I leave it?). I'd like to do something with it rather than just toss it in the trash or a burn pile. I was thinking about making a box for my Record 043 plough plane and using resawn pieces of this board for panels in the lid and bottom.

Another cool thing - if you hold the board up at the right angle, you can see a reflection in it. That is what you can do with a hand-planed surface. Try doing that with a board after 180 grit or fresh off the jointer!

Later that afternoon, Thomas Lie-Nielsen talked us through a video tour of Lie-Nielsen Toolworks. He fielded questions and discussed the creation process a plane goes through. He also talked about the quality assurance they apply to each piece. Did I mention he gave everyone a free plane? It was small and made of balsa wood and flies around the room...

Key things I took from the class:

• The flat side of a plane blade is called the face (by Chris) and the back (by Tom).
• All the sharpening systems work. Pick a system and stick with it for a year or two until you are proficient with it. You will notice your sharpening skills improve greatly over time.
• Don't use a fine grit diamond stone to flatten water stones! The water stone will weaken the bond of the diamonds to the plate, destroying your stone. 220 grit diamond stones use a different bonding agent and are safe to use.
• Camber all your plane blades. The plane you use for roughing gets an 8 degree camber; the joining plane gets a camber of about .007 to .005 of an inch; the smoothing plane gets a camber of about .002 of an inch.
• It is a good idea to even camber your block plane blades.
• You can plane an edge square with a cambered blade!
• You can determine grain direction by either looking at the edge or by using the face and the endgrain (looking for peaks and whether you were on the bark side or the heart side).
• Sharpening a scraper is similar to sharpening a plane blade in that you have to polish the faces and the edges first.
• Keep your planes clean; wipe it down after every planing session.
• Most importantly, and kind of as a summation of the whole class, I learned how to flatten and square a board!

New vocabulary I learned from Chris:

• Bockity - Irish for "bad"
• Sticktion - when two surfaces stick together (as in the thin ruler sticking to the sharpening stone)
• Sneck - the tab on the end of a plow plane blade, used to adjust the blade by tapping it.

This was a most enjoyable class and certainly worth the price of admission. If you've never used hand planes before and are tired of the ear protection and dust left behind by your planer, jointer, and sanders, you might want to consider signing up the next time it is offered. Even if you think you know a bit about planes, this class might still be able to teach you a few things.

And if things go well, and luck shines on you, maybe you, too, can get the nod of approval from one of the great active woodworkers in the business. It's a feeling that doesn't quickly fade.

The Rusling Box, Part Seven...

I had a bit of a rough day today, and it didn't have anything to do with the box. Occasionally I have migraines. Most of the time, I wake up with them. This morning was one of those times. It was bad enough that I stayed home from work to try and get rid of it - after two of my uber-expensive migraine pills, I finally got it under control.

So this afternoon, even though I still wasn't 100% after this morning, with just a disc to inlay, the finish to apply and the inside to complete, I was able to finish up the box.

The inlay is a brass disc made by Rab Gordon, proprietor of Rainnea Ltd and the maker of the dirk and sgian dubh going into this presentation box. It is a copy of the disc used for the pommel of the dirk and is Mr. Rusling's clan motto and shield/coat of arms. I received it in the mail just yesterday and immediately started fretting about how I was going to install it (cutting a perfect circle is not exactly what one would call "easy"). Fortune shined on me, though. The disc was just one millimeter under 2" in diameter. So I pulled out a 2" forstner bit, marked the center point of the diagonals on the bog oak in the lid, and drilled a shallow circle into the lid of the box. There was just the smallest amount of wiggle to it, but it won't move at all once I glue it in.

I enjoy the way wood looks when it is more natural. Although I do own stains and dyes and have something of a fondness for fuming with ammonia, I'm a much bigger fan of a few coats of a light shellac rubbed out with Renaissance wax. So I started that process with the first coat of the beige shellac I'd mixed up the other day.

While that was drying, I started on the internal divider. I usually make the divider out of the contrasting wood, but because this box is so long, I didn't have a piece of bog oak long enough, so I made it out of some slightly thinner white oak. Playing around a bit, I did a slight pillowing of the small tenon of the short piece. I rather like it; it makes me want to work on a Greene & Greene style box in the near future...

While the glue was drying on the divider and the shellac was drying on the box, I started on the inside liner. First I cut a piece of thick card stock to just a hair smaller than the inside of the box. Then I cut an over-sized piece of green (per Mr. Rusling's request) suede cloth and ironed it to smooth out the wrinkles. (Fabric Tip: Don't put the iron directly on suede cloth; it will melt. Place something over it, like a pillow case.) I sprayed one face of the card stock with 3M Adhesive Spray and pressed it onto the non-show side of the fabric, keeping a fairly even border on all sides. Then I took a ruler and a fabric cutting wheel and cut off the corners as shown.

Have you ever bought something without knowing just quite what you were going to use it for? Well, today I figured out a use for something I picked up at a garage sale last year. I'm not sure what made me grab it off the table, but as I was looking through some old Acme-thread C-clamps, I spied a small metal roller (probably from the printing industry, per the black ink residue on it). It had great heft to it because the roller is solid steel. Since I was buying four clamps, the guy threw the roller in for free. I brought it home and it found a place in the unorganized pseudo-shop.

I initially sprayed 3M Adhesive onto the back of the card stock to folded the fabric back up on it, but it was really messy and I quickly thought out a different method. I now use double-stick tape, instead. I can put it exactly where I want and it holds just fine. After I peeled off the first piece of tape backing, I was about ready to pull the fabric tight and press it down when I thought it would be useful if I had something to just roll it onto the tape. Then I remembered my steel printing roller and grabbed it. It worked like a charm!

At some point, I was able to get a second coat of shellac on the box. I've lost track of exactly when, though, per the multi-tasking and the migraine pills. After the shellac had dried for several hours, I rubbed the box and the divider out with some 320-grit stearated (non-load) sandpaper. Then I pulled out my can of Renaissance paste wax and started methodically rubbing out the finish. It's best to develop a routine for this so you don't miss any spots. I started with the inside of the base and worked my way around to the sides and then the bottom. Then I did the same thing with the lid and the divider.

Finally, I set the lining into the bottom. It slowly fell on a cushion of air, which tells me I had it cut perfectly to size. I don't ever attach the bottom with tape or glue. I figure if the owner wants to change it out for something else, they can easily pull it out and do so. It is held in place by the divider, which is a tight friction fit.

All that was left at that point was to put the hinges back on, screw in the lock, and attach the lock catch. I did find out the selvedge was mortised just a tad too deep, but I have a small bag of 5/16" diameter brass shims and one of those around each screw hole brought it up to the exact height I needed.

And then I pulled out the last items left in the bag the lock came in. Oh, boy. I'm actually supposed to hold this tack and hammer it at the same time? Thank God for a dad who is a doctor with a predilection for hemostats! I snagged a couple when I was at my parents' house last year, thinking they might come in handy. I put one of them to good use today!

Then I ran into another problem. The pins had rounded heads on them and when they were hammered in, I couldn't close the lid enough for the catch to engage the lock! So I tapped them in nice and tight with a nail set and a hammer and then filed them flush with a mill file. Issue resolved. Before I build another box with one of these locks, I'm going to go try and find some #1 screws. I didn't like the fact that one of the last things I was doing to this box involved hitting it with a hammer.

I had just a few more things left to do before I was done. I glued the brass disc into the lid (that took all of 20 seconds, and most of that was messing with getting the super glue gel out of the bottle). I then signed the bottom of the box and indicated what kinds of wood I used (Reclaimed Am. White Oak and Irish Bog Oak) in its construction.

As a final step, I went through our storge shelves until I found a box of stuff from my own wedding two years ago. I cut a small piece of Campbell tartan ribbon, trimmed the ends with a nice little "V" cut and tied it to the key. It didn't look quite as good as a bit of silk ribbon might have, but it doesn't look bad.

The Rusling Box, Part Six...

I spent several hours yesterday evening working on the box, but by the time I was done it was terribly late, so I didn't get a chance to write about it. It included a bit of frustration, anyway, so maybe it was better I didn't make a blog entry at that time.

With the hinges in, my next task was to mortise the lock. This was the first time I've mortised a lock, so I wanted it to be as simple a task as possible. To this end, I decided to pick up a new lock with an easier mortise. It cost a little more, but it also made me feel more comfortable and, at this point, that was more important for me. I'll still use the other lock, only I'll probably use it when I'm building a box without a deadline and I can take my time.

At some point, I'll figure out a good way to mortise the lock (probably taking care of this before I glue the box up would make it easier). For now, I have this Frankenstein's Monster-like setup. It had been so long since I'd set up my plunge router I was afraid I'd forgotten how! But it all came back to me quite quickly and I set the stops easily enough. In this picture, you can see one of my stops is the test piece I used to make sure my setup was good.

After I made the mortise for the hinge, I did the mortise for the selvdge, as well. Really, it was just a matter of going to a larger bit (5/16") and moving my stop blocks out a little. When I was done, I had a very well-fit full mortise lock for my box.

The next step was to cut the key hole for the lock. At first, I wanted to inlay a bog oak escutcheon into the front of the box, but after thinking about the time crunch, I decided to go with the included brass escutcheon. I measured once, twice, and three times before I drilled the first hole. Then I worked at the hole with small files to create the key shape. And after I got about this far in the process, I held the lock up to front of the box and just about spit nails! The hole I'd drilled was way too low! Not only that, but there was no way to cover the hole with the escutcheon.

So as late as it was, and as frustrated as I was, I decided to try and fix it before I went to bed. Turns out I got to try my idea of inlaying a bog oak escutcheon after all! I won't go into all of the inlay details as it was similar to the rectangle in the lid of the box. Here is the end result, before I cut the key hole. I think it looks rather smart and, seeing the end result, I'm glad I needed to do it.

(Editor's Note: Again with the pixilation issues! My camera doesn't like the grain in the white oak at certain angles, I guess.)

At this point, I decided to call it a night.

This evening, I picked up right where I'd left off. To start the key hole and drill the screw holes for the lock, I pulled out my Goodell-Pratt eggbeater drill and chucked in an appropriately-sized drill bit. This time I measured about seven times before I started my first hole. After filing and test fittings over and over, I had a bog oak escutcheon in the front of my box.

In order to easily place the lock catch in the right position, I fixed it into the lock, put the lock into the mortise, placed a piece of double-sided tape in the general position on the lid, and closed it tightly. When I opened the lid, the catch was stuck to it in the proper position. I used my Blue Spruce marking knife to mark its position and then chiseled out a shallow mortise.

I finished up the night by applying a coat of shellac to the inside of the box.

The Rusling Box, Part Four...

After the miter keys had dried, I used a Japanese flush-cut saw to bring them to level with the sides of the box. I never realized how much I missed having a solid workbench to work off of as when I was trying to cut these keys with that saw. I can't wait to have everything back in order so I can start working on my new bench.

When the keys were all trimmed, my next step was to cut the lid free from the base of the box. I did this with the table saw and a small amount of painter's tape. First I cut the long edges, making sure the blade was raised higher than the thickness of the box. I used painter's tape on the cut line to minimize tear out. After the long edges are cut, I use shims to wedge the lid open and then tape up the sides around the shims. This prevents the edge from binding when I make the cuts to free the ends. At this point, I'll admit, the box does look something like a large turtle...

But after the tape and the shims were removed, I was left with a box that had a not-so-bad looking cut line. Of course, I still needed to use a block plane to clean up some of the saw marks, but that, followed by a little bit of sanding with the ROS 125, left a very clean cut line with just the right spacing between miter keys.

Over the years, I've tried a few other methods of cutting the lid free from the bottom, but this seems to work the best and leaves me with the least amount of clean-up work to do.

I was going to end the evening cutting the hinges and trying to mortise the lock, but, as previously mentioned, I got somewhat distracted with making a jig. Here is the culprit. It is simple in concept - a piece of MDF with a notch cut in it that exactly fits the part of the hinge I want to inlay and then two more smaller pieces of MDF acting as stops. The notch starts at 3 1/2" from the end, which is an appropriate distance for this size box. I wasn't quite as precise as I wanted to be with the opening, so I tightened it up with blue painter's tape. Then I ran packing tape across both faces of the board to make sure the router didn't get caught on anything as I was routing out the hinges. Next, I glued and screwed a small piece of MDF to the end of the face for the side of the box to reference. Finally, I glued and screwed another small piece to the edges of both boards for the front/back of the box to reference.

Now I had a jig to cut all four hinge mortises and was able to do so in just a matter of 20 minutes or so (including cleaning up the cuts with a sharp chisel). Because the jig is referencing the side and front of the box, and not a measurement from the center, I can use this on other boxes with similar dimensions. If I wanted to place the hinge closer to the edge of the box, I could always place spacers between the box and the side of the jig, but I'll probably end up making a jig for smaller boxes. I marked the brand and model number of hinge this jig uses so I'll know which jig to use with which hinge if I do get around to making more.

I ran out of time at this point and didn't have time to work on the lock. But, as luck would have it, I didn't have the right tools for that job yet, anyway...

The Rusling Box, Part Three...

Previously, on Lost...

Sorry, wrong beginning.

When we last left the latest dirk box, I'd just finished the glue-up and checked for square. I let it sit overnight and half of today before doing anything else with it.

In the mean time, Dana and I went on our birdwatching hike at Babler State Park this morning. We almost canceled per the rain, but I suggested we tough it out and see if the rain lets up. Sure enough, about 20 minutes into the hike the rain let up and we could put our umbrellas away and concentrate on birds. Won't go into minute detail here, but we did see some cool things, including a barred owl (who-who-who-cooks-for-you-all is the call they make; I hear one almost every afternoon and night here in St. Peters).

Fast-forward to this afternoon, when we finally got back home from birdwatching and running errands...

After the glue-up, the next step is to cut the slots for the miter keys. They are best cut with a rip blade on the table saw, which has a flat tooth and thus leaves a flat bottom. That makes for little or no gap after the key has been glued it and trimmed flush.

I usually leave my blue painter's tape on the corners when I'm cutting the miter key slots. It reduces tear-out and it also provides a place for me to figure out where I want to put my miter keys via test marks. I decided on trying to evenly space them out, with the top key being a half inch from the top edge, the middle key being one inch down (after calculating waste for cutting the top off the box), and then the bottom key being one more inch down and ending up just a half inch from the bottom of the box. I'm very OCD like that with some things...

Here is my jig for cutting the slots for the miter keys. It is just a piece of 1/8" hardboard, a piece of 2x4 I cut at 45 degrees and then laid out flat, and a piece of oak to ride along the tablesaw fence. I'm probably going to rethink this jig in the near future and create one that rides in the miter slots on my table saw. That way, it will always cut in the same spot and I can adjust the position of the slots with stop blocks to cut the grooves in the different locations. For now, this jig works just fine, but I did notice today that I'm starting to really tear into the right side of it.

When I was resawing my lid inlay piece at Vic's, I also took the time (seriously, like a whole three more minutes) to resaw some more bog oak into 1/8" thick strips for my miter keys. They are actually more like 3/16" thick, but I'll have to sand them a bit to remove the bandsaw marks. After throwing a 60 grit disc on my Festool ROS 125, it didn't take but a few seconds on each side to get them flat and at just about the proper thickness.

To make sure each key sits tight against the back of the slot, I have to joint the edges of the bog oak strips. I found out several boxes ago that the easiest way to do this is to turn my #5 upside down on the bench and run the strip of wood over the sole of the plane, sort of like a mini-jointer. Here you can see the small shavings starting to gather under the plane. It doesn't take very long with a sharp edge and a steady hand.

Bog oak is not cheap, so I'm quite frugal with it. I joint both long edges of the strips because of the method I use for cutting my keys. I fit a part of the strip into a slot, mark a triangle a little larger than what I'll need, cut the triangle out, then flip the strip over for the next slot.

I've found that even though I cut all of the miter key slots at the same time and with the same blade at the same setting that they aren't always exactly the same thickness. So I individually fit, cut, and mark a key for each slot. If I end up with some wood that is too thin, I set it aside for a future box. If the strip is just a hair too thick, I'll pound it a bit with my warrington hammer (on the right in this photo) to get the right fit. Marks on the bog oak are made with the white artist's pencil.

After all of the keys are cut, I'll grab a plastic lid from the recycle bin, put a bit of glue on it, tape up an acid brush, and start applying glue to both faces and the back edge of each miter key and press it into place. This generally goes quite smoothly, although I occasionally end up with a miter key that is a little too thick after it starts swelling from the glue. If it sticks while I'm trying to put it in, a few taps of the warrington is usually enough to coax it into place. When I'm done, the lid goes back into the recycle bin (that, my friends, is called "reuse"and "recycle").

I'll let these miter keys set up over-night and trim them flush tomorrow after church. Then I'll sand the outside of the box, cut the lid free from the top, and start working on hinges and the lock. I originally wanted to try a brass push-button lock from Lee Valley, but after looking at the required wood thickness, I now know I'm not going to be able to make that work. I need to use at least 3/4" thick wood for that mechanism and my box sides are only 1/2".

Fortunately, I usually plan for things like this and ordered a mortised lock set from Lee Valley last week. It shouldn't be too difficult to install. It comes with a brass escuschion, but I'm thinking about making my own out of bog oak. If I have the time, that's what I'd like to do, anyway...

Look for more tomorrow night!

The Rusling Box, Part Two...

I had a little less time that I would have liked to work on the box this evening. Unfortunately, several weekends of rain meant I had yet to cut the lawn this year and it was starting to look bad. So after three nice sunny days, and rain scheduled for tomorrow, I had to spend several hours mowing the lawn after work. Fortunately for me, I was smart enough to "winterize" my mower last fall, so I didn't have to do anything but put new gas in the tank and start it up (on the first pull, thank you Mr. Toro!)

After that was done, and supper was made and eaten, I was able to get back into the... oh, let's just call it the shop... and work on the box again.

By this time, the glue had dried and I was ready to level the inlay. I pulled out my 60 1/2 block plane and went to work on it. I do enjoy planing... I did have a little bit of tearout in one or two places, but I got rid of most of it and there will be additional inlay put into the bog oak, so I'm not too worried about it.

After planing the inlay to almost level, I finished off with the ROS 125. I also sanded the insides of each piece and both sides of the bottom and top before assembly. I didn't take any pictures of that; I figured you would know what sanding looks like... but the end result is a nicely fit, flush piece of bog oak inlay.

Again, I'm quite pleased with how this is turning out.

The glue-up used to be a hectic time for me. Now, I take my time with it, lay out the sides end-for-end and tape them all up with painter's tape before I start, so it really is pretty simple anymore. It seems less stressful every time, anyway, so maybe some of that can be chalked up to experience, too.

After the glue dries, I'll be reinforcing the mitered joints with bog oak keys, so I'm not too worried about applying more clamping pressure at this point. I've found I just start pushing things out of square, anyway.

By the way... sometimes it is good to be square.

I'm at another glue-drying-point, so time to call it a night. My wife is a twitcher (bird watcher), so tomorrow morning we're going out to a state park to see what we can see. It is a good time of year for bird watching; different species are starting to migrate through right now and there are still very few leaves on the trees (easier to see the birds) and bugs in the air (I hate mosquitoes).

I'll be back at it tomorrow afternoon, though, and I'll have the camera handy...

The Rusling Box, Part One...

So I was able to get started on the latest presentation box this past week. This box is a new size for me, designed to hold both a dirk and a sgian dubh. The buyer decided upon a reclaimed white oak box with bog oak accents and inlay. Working with reclaimed lumber created a little more of a challenge to try and find a board in my stock that was long enough and wide enough for the lid. I have plenty of boards that fit the bill, but for this one, I wanted very little "character" to detract from the focal point (to be discussed later).

After some minor delays and one or two setbacks, I started to see progress. That is always motivating! And yes, I did remember to bring my camera (er... Dana's camera?) into the garage/basement/wherever I happened to call "shop" at the time.

I started off by cutting the sides to length and mitering the corners. It's a pretty simple process... in theory. Really, it's a pain in the butt to make sure you have your angles right. I still don't always get them exactly right, which means I need to work on my jig-making skills. But I do put the fullest of efforts into doing them the best I can, and that's really all I can ask of myself.

In this first picture, you can see some of the character you get working with recycled wood. There is a nail hole in one of the side pieces and some old worm trails in a few of the pieces. I'll do nothing to hide any of these details in the finished box.

After the miters are cut, I ran grooves for lid and bottom. I really wanted to try out my new/old Record 043 plough plane (that I've yet to write a blog entry on), but with the shop in a state of, well, non-existance, and the plane still in as-purchased condition (i.e. not sharpened), I felt it most wise to just cut the joinery on the tablesaw and call it done.

Once the grooves were cut, I measured and cut the lid and bottom (room for seasonal movement with the lid, very little extra room for the plywood bottom).

Before I glued it all up, I wanted to do as much of the inlay in the lid as I could (I have the bog oak, but one part is still en route from Scotland). That way, if I mess it up too badly I can just start the lid over instead of starting the whole box over.

After cutting the bog oak to proper dimensions (thanks to my friend, Vic, for letting me use his bandsaw to resaw the bog oak to its 1/8" thickness), I took measurements to properly place it in the center of the board and lightly scored the edges with a marking knife. I then carefully deepened the lines after removing the piece of inlay. This is one of the tricky parts because white oak is so grainy that the knive can take a path of its own if you're not careful.

Once I have it marked up enough, I darken an 1/8" section of the wood just inside the border. That is a guide so I know where to stop routing. I don't ever try to route all the way to the edge; that's what chisels are for! After routing out most of the area, I finish up with chisels (sorry, I got a little anxious at this point and forgot to shoot a picture).

I don't know if you can tell in this picture, but the white oak I'm working with looks and acts a little different from white oak you might buy from a lumber yard today. The biggest difference is that the grain is less-pronounced. Anyway, that was just an aside...

After champhering the back of the inlay for an easier fit (I found a microplane works well for this job), I test fit the inlay. Satisfied with the fit, I spread glue in the recess and clamped the inlay in place.

For an inlay in white oak, I'm pleased with this result.

It was late by that point, and I had glue to dry, so I decided to call it a night.

More in a bit!