If I am repaired, can we meet again for the first time, in all of the places I have feared to go, and then, again, in all of the places I will have forgotten, if I am repaired?



Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Don't bogart that joint....

...my friend.

Don't ever say that I held out on you...

Four phat joints...

Hardy Har Har...

I had to stop work on the piano for a bit,
to build a small chest before Christmas.
It's a frame and panel box.
Mitered beading on the rails and stiles.

I'll glue up the panel blanks tomorrow.

Oh... They came to pull the Mexicans van out.

The van was facing you when they started,
sitting in that crater there in the foreground
and leaning against that tree it's beside now.
That is to say, it was better off before they started.
Any further down the hill and I will own it,
because I'm sure it will cost more than those
poor Mexican guys want to fork over to get it up and out
of that wash.

Don't worry...
Soon as the ice is off the road
we'll get a tractor and some chain down there
and snatch that van out of there for those boys.
We ain't heartless.
We ain't stupid though, either. 



  1. Poor van.
    On the fo'free, obviously.

  2. That hill looks steep...going for a ramble in the woods were they.. there goes the profits and the end of wherever they were heading that day.

    Look at those joints...amazing... I can almost feel the edges from here...beaded, beveled, precisely jointed.. hope the lucky recipient appreciates the beauty and craftsmanship that you have put into this.. well, you know inside you.

  3. Steven, it's not because I go away for a week, that you are allowed to stop writing for a week too... on the contrary, when I'm not there, you have to write for 2!



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