Extremely Average

The timer on my iphone was set to 16 minutes. I hit start and it began counting down. My belt sander went to work on the piece of walnut. Slowly it began to remove change the board’s face from rough cut to a smooth surface. I focused on even strokes back and forth and let it do the work. When the deep cuts were mostly gone, with seven minutes remaining, I switched to my mouse sander. The mouse sander did a nice job with various grits for the remaining 7 minutes.

The follow three images are, rough, low end sanders, Festool 150.

When I wiped both sides off and compared, I was not surprised that the side which had been worked on by the Festool 150, was much nicer. The side that was completed with my low end sanders was still rather good looking. I would say that I have several hundred board feet of very handsome walnut.

So what did I learn? I learned that the expensive tool is quieter, somewhat faster, and performs a level that is superior to what I have now. This is not at all surprising. The real value is getting to compare my current capabilities with what is possible and then to assess how that relates to the project I am working on now. When I think in those terms, I come to the conclusion, that at this moment, I am not going to spend the money to buy the Festool.

Is this my final word on the Festool sander? No, not at all, as there will come a day, when I am building another project, one in which I desire a higher quality result, that I will likely revisit the issue. It was suggested that I read some of the reviews on the Lumberjocks site. This was very helpful.

So I gained a bit of experience about sanding and really enjoyed seeing how beautiful all the wood, which is stacked in my basement, really is.

It should be no surprise to anyone that 16 minutes of woodworking is not nearly enough. I have begun gluing the 22 inch pieces of hard maple together. The first set of 4 that I slathered Titebond on, were tricky little devils. Who knew that glue could be so slippery? Actually, I would imagine that most woodworkers knew that, but for me it was something new. The best part about the first glue up was that after I had clamped them together, I noticed that the first board had ridden up a bit. Did I panic? No, I put the glued up section in the cauls I built. I tightened the cauls up and the little bit of unevenness disappeared. I was very proud of my little cauls, performing their job so admirably.

The process of building the top for my router table will move slowly, as I only have enough clamps to do one set of boards at a time. That is ok, as I am such a novice at gluing up stuff, that doing them one at a time, will allow me to learn with each set. As with each other skill in woodworking, it just takes practice and repetition to get good at it. Or so I would imagine. Every time I try something new, I get very excited and it makes me happier than a cat who has won a bid on EBay for a giant ball of yarn.

So what did I learn? I learned that the expensive tool is quieter, somewhat faster, and performs a level that is superior to what I have now. This is not at all surprising. The real value is getting to compare my current capabilities with what is possible and then to assess how that relates to the project I am working on now. When I think in those terms, I come to the conclusion, that at this moment, I am not going to spend the money to buy the Festool.

Is this my final word on the Festool sander? No, not at all, as there will come a day, when I am building another project, one in which I desire a higher quality result, that I will likely revisit the issue. It was suggested that I read some of the reviews on the Lumberjocks site. This was very helpful.

So I gained a bit of experience about sanding and really enjoyed seeing how beautiful all the wood, which is stacked in my basement, really is.

It should be no surprise to anyone that 16 minutes of woodworking is not nearly enough. I have begun gluing the 22 inch pieces of hard maple together. The first set of 4 that I slathered Titebond on, were tricky little devils. Who knew that glue could be so slippery? Actually, I would imagine that most woodworkers knew that, but for me it was something new. The best part about the first glue up was that after I had clamped them together, I noticed that the first board had ridden up a bit. Did I panic? No, I put the glued up section in the cauls I built. I tightened the cauls up and the little bit of unevenness disappeared. I was very proud of my little cauls, performing their job so admirably.

The process of building the top for my router table will move slowly, as I only have enough clamps to do one set of boards at a time. That is ok, as I am such a novice at gluing up stuff, that doing them one at a time, will allow me to learn with each set. As with each other skill in woodworking, it just takes practice and repetition to get good at it. Or so I would imagine. Every time I try something new, I get very excited and it makes me happier than a cat who has won a bid on EBay for a giant ball of yarn.

The best part about blogging, as a beginner at woodworking, is that one learns much more than they would, were they doing the woodworking alone. Yesterday’s blog had some great reactions, and posed a great question, is it worth it?

There are lots of other wonderful items, like a band saw, lather, and some nice spray equipment for finishing furniture, but they aren’t high enough on the list to mention. Oh wait, I just mentioned them. Oh well, I am on a roll.


So I continue to do research. Which brings me back to the discussion about the Festool sander we had today, and I don’t know that I am able to give an answer one way or the other. I do know that I was very impressed with how the wood glowed after I used the 6” sander. So I wanted to check it out again. Today I went prepared to do my own, very unscientific test. I took in a piece of rough cut walnut, cut to 33”. I have lots and lots of this walnut, so this test will be more meaningful to me, than working on scrap pieces that Matt had with him. Because there wasn’t a lot of time, I decided to a comparison based upon how much progress I could make in 15 minutes. Of course, I lost track of time, and ended up going 16 minutes.


This is how my test will go. I have spent 16 minutes sanding with the items that come in the 6” kit, on one side of the rough wood. I will now use my existing equipment, a belt sander and mouse sander, and see what I can accomplish in 16 minutes. I want to know how much difference there is between my current, albeit meager set up, and the Festool. It is not apples to bananas, by any means, and I am aware of that.


So today I have included a picture of the wood, in rough cut form, as a bit of a teaser for tomorrow’s blog.

Now will this answer the question, “Is the extra money worth it, for the Festool, versus another company’s less expensive option?” No, as I said, it isn’t scientific. It will answer the question, how much improvement will I get for my dollars.


I should mention that there was a customer with Matt the Festool guy, when I arrived. He had a finishing sander with him, which he had bought about a year ago. He didn’t feel like it did the job he wanted, not by a long shot. The customer builds furniture and cabinets and had used several other, very nice quality finishing sanders, before buying the Festool a year ago. He was very polite and explained that he honestly didn’t know if it was his sander, or operator error. Matt got out the piece of tiger wood that I had sanded on one side the day before. The customer looked at it and said he remembered seeing a piece of wood at the demo last year, and he truly didn’t believe that there wasn’t a finish on the wood. I told him that I had done the sanding yesterday.


Matt turned the wood over and made a couple of passes with the customer’s sander, using the 220 grit paper that was on it. He sanded for only a very short while, and then stopped. All three of us felt the wood. It felt just like I expected, as I had done the same thing the day before. The customer thought it felt really good too.


Around the table he walked, and grabbed a piece of scrap lumber and tried it himself. Sure enough, his sander worked just fine. But the customer still seemed confused. So they got the exact sander, which the customer had used, prior to buying the Festool. They fired it up and it was much noisier. After using both of them, side by side, the customer realized that his sander was working so much quicker, quieter, and the dust collection was so complete, that he was being fooled into thinking it wasn’t working. The last tip that Matt gave him, was to dial down the vacuum, which when on high, sometimes creates too much suction. The middle of the road suction worked better for his model of sander. In the end, he loved his tool, and left feeling much better about his purchase.


So I am going to do my test, which will help me decide if I want to move it up the list. I may not learn anything that is helpful to anyone else, but what I will have done is recorded what I was thinking about and my reasoning for making the decision. This may one day, down the road, be incredibly valuable to me. I hope it will be interesting to all of you.

The sun was out today and it was the first time this year that I noticed the days seem to be hanging out a bit longer.  They are sneaky that way, sort of creeping up on spring.  After all the snow this winter, I will welcome spring with a giddiness that I haven’t experienced in years.  Of course, it was still cold out, when I got into my car, but the sunlight on my face warmed my spirits considerably.

I had errands to run.  I needed to get some petrol and oil for my car.  I was craving a Jimmy John’s sub, so that was also on my list.  The top task on my list however, was to try to make it over to ACME tool before they closed, so I could see the Festool rep.  I had marked on my calendar that he would be in town on the 24^th and 25^th and today is the 24^th!  Since I purchased Mary the Jigsaw, I have been interested in seeing either the 5” RQ 125 FEQ or the 6” RQ 150 FEQ sander in action.

The Festool representative, Matt, had a piece of tiger wood, which had recently admitted to cheating on his wife with several types of exotics, from all over the world.  Not only did I get to see it in action, I got to do the sanding!  It was fantastic.  He explained how to hold it correctly and also told my why it was important.  Because of the design, it sort of looks like one might hold the sander too far back.  He explained that this would lead to horrible chatter.  So I did as he had instructed and there wasn’t any chatter, it was smoother than a famous golfer picking up a porn star.

We started with some 120 grit and worked our way up until we were using some weird space age polishing pads.  I have read that new woodworkers often over sand.  The 6” RQ 150 FEQ sander, which has a random orbital setting and a gear setting, also has an attachment which collects dust.  The dust collection was incredible.  There simply wasn’t any, the tiny little vacuum seemed to get it all.  When I had made it through all the grits and polishing pads, the wood was polished like  a new driver.

Before I knew it, the store was closing.  I wasn’t prepared to make my purchase today, as I like to mull tool buying decisions over, but I also was not at all prepared to leave ACME tool empty handed.  That would be crazy talk.  So in a near panic I scooted over to the section with measuring and marking devices.  I swooped down the aisle, deftly grabbing a Crown Tools 10 ½ inch bevel in rosewood, a wheel marking gauge by Shop Basics, and then frantically hailed one of the remaining workers, to unlock the Freud router bit cabinet.  The ACME guys are always friendly, and they never rush me, but I have developed a terrible habit of making them wait on me to close up, so I am trying to do better.  I looked at my iphone and I had my new ¼” double flute straight bit, with one minute to spare.  I plopped the stuff on the counter and bought them.  Whew that was close.

Worry not, if you thought that the closing of ACME, cut my woodworking shopping short, for I still intended to wonder over to Home Depot.  Between ACME tools and Home Depot is a Jimmy John’s sub shop, so that played right into my plans.  I had the #5.  Yummy!

As many of you know, I am working on building a router table.  I have some ¾” ODF, which I thought I might take two sheets of and glue them together for the top.  I have decided against that option, in favor of a more expensive one.  I want each project to teach me a bit more about woodworking.  So I have decided to glue up a bunch of 1 x 2 pieces of hard maple and oak, to create the table.  Of course, I will be standing the pieces on their edge, so that the final thickness will be similar to the 2 pieces of ODF, but it will let me do some gluing.  Also, I have been dying to try out my cauls, so this should be fun.

There is one additional benefit.  I plan to assemble the tops, such that there is an opening, which is about a half inch smaller than my router table plate.  This eliminates the need to cut a hole.  I will give a more detailed explanation about how I approached my table top, after I have completed it.  I bought 70 linear feet of wood, a piano hinge, and some Titebond II Premium wood glue.  All in all, a good day, and now I get to go downstairs and cut some wood.

Henry pulled out of the drive, the book resting on the passenger seat, and the Four Knights, ‘I Get So Lonely’, playing on the radio.  The steering wheel was cold, really cold, and Henry didn’t even notice.  His gloves in his pocket, all warm and napping, just waiting to get in the game were quite content where they were.  In his mind, he was laying out the cards which had been dealt him, looking them over, and searching for patterns.  It was obvious, that at this point, his hand was weak.

Henry reached down and changed the radio station, Frankie Laine & Jimmy Boyd, ‘Tell Me A Story’, seemed appropriate, so he stopped searching.  Snow began to fall again.  The wiper blades seemed to be keeping time.  It is one thing to know that one is on the right path; it is an entirely different thing to know where that path is heading.  Henry stood on the metaphorical path.  It was a maze and though he knew that the ‘Goal’ was to end up in the DA’s office with the journal and the key in hand, he wasn’t sure where to turn next.  Henry was sure of one thing, if he wasn’t careful, and he should get lost in the maze, it could be deadly.

The cityscape changed, he crossed the bridge, the buildings grew and the traffic thickened.  Whether it was paranoia, or his aching ribs, Henry kept checking his mirrors.  He had a feeling that he was being watched, the moment he left the bridge and arrived on the island.  Left, right, left, right, right and left, put him back on course, and he didn’t see anyone, but the feeling persisted.

Henry pulled up to the address on the back of Bobby’s card.  Henry couldn’t believe it.  He stood looking up at the Flatiron Building at twenty-third street, famous for being triangular in shape and from being responsible for the phrase, ’twenty-three skidoo’.  The draft from the height and shape of the building had, after the completion in 1902, caused women’s skirts to fly up, which meant that the local constables had to “skidoo” the men who hung out for a peak.  Henry had always hated right angles.  He loved a room with character and he had been curious to see the inside of this famous address.  For a moment, Henry forgot about his sore ribs, the business card from the future, and the general feeling of being watched.

He walked into the building, climbed the stairs to the third floor and started down the hall.  The numbers got larger until he got to the end; there it was, at the end of the hall, the office which would have the window looking out from the point of the triangle.  He hadn’t called Bobby, as he wanted to check the place out, without Bobby yammering on.  He reached down and found the door to be unlocked.  He opened it slowly and walked in.

“Hey, Mr. Wood, I am so glad you decided to check the place out.  It really suits you.  Don’t you love the building?  You know, the phrase, ’23 skidoo’ is because of the Flatiron building?”

“Bobby” Henry said, momentarily startled, “Yes, I did know that.  What are you…”

“I had a feeling you would be coming over today.  I mean, you can’t work for too long without an office, can you?  You need to find a place fast, and this place is perfect for you.  Here look around.  There is plenty of space out here in the waiting room, for a secretary and a desk, and the office is fantastic, here take a look.  I know you will love it.”  Bobby opened the door, and held it for Henry.  Henry walked through and it was indeed perfect for him.  He couldn’t let Bobby know, he dreaded the response it would yield.

Bobby was a seasoned Realtor and was better at reading poker faces than Henry was at wearing one.  “I knew it!  You do love it!  It is perfect for you.  You don’t have a secretary do you?  I know a woman who would be fantastic, she is blonde, types 85 words a minute, and has legs that go on for miles.  I can get you her number if you like?  So should I get the rental contract?”  He asked, and presumably took a breath, but Henry thought it was possible that Bobby could talk for hours without stopping or breathing.   Henry didn’t answer.

He walked around the room, stopping at the window and looking down on the street.  The room felt like a fortress, it was comforting.  He turned around and looked at Bobby, who stood silently; a feat that Henry would have guessed was beyond his abilities.  Short, Henry guessed about 5’ zero, stout, wearing an old overcoat and a somewhat worn hat, he had a notebook in one pocket, and a racing form was peeking out of the other.  His round face seemed honest, even kind, but his constant chatter, made him annoying.   Henry stared at Bobby, sizing him up, looking for a clue.  Who was this guy?  Where did he come from?  Why did Sylvia have one of Henry’s cards with this address on it?  Why was he wearing a coat indoors?

The room was silent, the flow of chatter out of Bobby had completely ceased, and neither one of them was talking.  After 30 seconds, it was becoming uncomfortable for Henry, he expected that Bobby would start blathering on at any moment, but he didn’t.  He was mute.  Finally Henry decided he wanted to try something and said, “It is ok, but I was wondering if you have anything else in the building, maybe on a different floor?”

“Nope, the building is full; this is the only office available.  Shall I get the paperwork?”  He responded.  He was concise and to the point.  This also surprised Henry.  He couldn’t get a read on Bobby.

Henry said, “I think I would like to think about it for a while?”

Bobby, who was now a paragon of brevity, said “Why?”

Henry knew that he was outmatched.  He turned back and looked out the window, as he didn’t want Bobby to see him smiling.  He liked Bobby.  Henry thought it best to keep that from the strange little man.  He also liked the office and since taking the place seemed to already be in the cards, he decided not to fight it.  “I’ll take it.”

Bobby made a strange noise, which might have been laughter, Henry wasn’t sure.  “Great, I have the contract in my office.  I knew you would love the place, it is a great building.  Oh you know what?  I almost forgot to tell you the best part, aside from being next to the greatest deli in the world, the best part is that my office is right down the hall!  We will be neighbors!  I know you will love it here.  The other tenants are great, except for old man Conner, but don’t you worry about him, he keeps to himself.  I will get the paper work.  I will be right back.”  He scurried out of the room and silence seemed to hesitantly creep back in, not sure if it was ok.

Henry didn’t know how Sylvia had gotten his business cards, which he hadn’t had printed yet.  He didn’t know why it was so important that he have this office.  All he knew is that, like it or not, he had a new friend.   From down the hallway, the sound, of papers being shuffled, a door creaking as it closed, and someone’s radio playing Tony Bennett’s hit, “From Rags to Riches”, seemed to all indicate that Henry was still on the right path.

I have been spending so much time working on my router table that I haven’t done any pure practicing.  So I set a goal to cut two sets of dovetails.  Previously I had cut a set of tails, but have been way too much of a Wimpy McWimperson to try the pins.  I wanted to live with the joy of the tails for a while, before I had to face the cold hard reality that the pins and tails don’t really fit together that well.

Tonight reality slapped me around and called me a sissy.  But that is ok, I needed it.  The mental thrashing I took, from my poorly fitting joints, was somewhat motivating.  When I cut the mortise and tenons, they weren’t pretty, but I practiced and they got better.  I am confident that my dovetails will improve too.  Were I to assess both sets, I would say I made a marginal improvement from the first to the second.  The first pair was pretty loose, while the second was much tighter.

The wood is oak.  I used my Japanese hand saws for the cuts.  I think that the main issue was with the quality of my saw cuts, especially the angled ones.  I have made a fair amount of straight cuts with my saws, and the angled cuts are of a higher difficulty level.  Not as high a difficulty level as the triple salchow, but I digress.  Of course, cutting dovetails by hand, isn’t a requirement for quality woodworking, but like the chisel work, I believe the skill will help me with my understanding of joints.

Before today I hadn’t thought about the pins and their relationship to the tails.  It seems the tails need to be on the side of the drawer.  If it were the pins on the side, I imagine the drawer would come apart.  I enjoyed my dovetail practice and it might be nice to do a small drawer and somehow graft it onto my router table.  Will it look out of place?  Yes, probably, but I can live with that, if it actually works and can hold my router bits.

So tonight I practiced, I chose a skill, which I don’t have, and began to develop it.  I believe that progress is to be celebrated.  The imperfections that one creates along the way can be looked at lovingly, down the road, as sign posts on the journey taken.

On an unrelated note, my friend Steve is a financial backer of a band called, ‘Hello Dave’.  They are really quite good and have recently released a video on the CMT website.  Apparently, if enough people go to the site and listen to the video, it is possible, that it will get elevated to the status of being played on TV.  Steve has been a good friend for a long time and he has put a great deal of time and energy into ‘Hello Dave’, and I wanted to take the opportunity to plug them.  If you would like to help Steve and ‘Hello Dave’, to maybe have their dream come true, all you have to do is click on the link and give it a listen.  I think you will enjoy it, and I would appreciate the help. http://bit.ly/94CrCi

Henry walked briskly back through the house, towards the office. Sylvia had difficulty keeping up. The moment he crossed into the office, he stopped and scanned everything, hoping to let the room tell him where to go next. The room wasn’t at all talkative. He turned to his left, and started to carefully read the titles, one by one. Mr. Alexander’s methodology was to group his book by subject and then within each subject they were alphabetical. It was very much a library.

There was a massive section on chess and next to it was a section on puzzles. Henry stopped, sure that the puzzle he was unraveling, must have a clue within these volumes. He pulled each book off the shelf, flipped through it, and looked for anything out of the ordinary. Sylvia watched him for a while, until her curiosity finally got the best of her and she asked, “What are you looking for?” 

Henry had forgotten that he wasn’t alone, and realized she might be able to help. “I am not sure, but I think there may be a clue here, that will help…” He paused before he finished, as he hadn’t been entirely truthful with Miss Culberson. She had hired him and paid him well, to find the journal, which he had done, and now he needed to make a decision. He continued, “Sylvia, can I trust you?”

She thought the question was rather strange. “Yes. Why would you think you couldn’t?” She backed up, sensing that there was something going on, something she might not like. “Have you found the journal?!” Sylvia demanded.

Henry knew that he was walking a fine line. He knew that he needed Sylvia, he couldn’t let her fly off into a rage, and he must choose his words carefully. He started with, “I have learned something about your father. Please sit down.”

“Have you found the Journal? I have paid you well. I demand to know what you are up to! Can you trust me?! The nerve, can I trust you?” She was now in a rage.

It became apparent that he had done a poor job of choosing his first words. Henry was noting, if not quick on his feet, he took two steps towards her, tightened up his face, “Listen here sweetheart, I found your story to be thin, very thin, I have seen dames like you, and you are all alike. You can either park your cute little but in that chair and listen to what I have to say, or you can go to hell, and try to find your father, on your own!”

This change in approach hit the mark. She was stunned by the last bit and stammered, “Did you say find my father?” She seemed unsteady and Henry helped her to the couch. She was calmer now, so Henry lowered his voice.

“Yes. I don’t believe he was killed in the lab. I don’t have any proof, and I probably shouldn’t have gotten your hopes up, but I needed you to listen.” He said and then paused. She didn’t say anything, so he continued, “First of all, I don’t believe that Mr. Alexander was keeping the journal about your father’s business, but they were working together to code the journal, to keep it a secret.”

This was a bit of a relief, but it didn’t make any sense to Sylvia, so she asked, “They were working together, but why would an accountant need my father’s help? “

“The next bit may be hard to understand, perhaps impossible, but I believe that Mr. Alexander had discovered some information, some proof if you will, that would bring down one of the city’s most dangerous criminals. I believe that your father and Mr. Alexander were planning to turn the journal and its proof, over to the DA, when it was leaked what they were doing. It was then that they both realized the danger. I believe they staged the explosion. It was then…” Henry stopped when he heard the footsteps down the hall.

Sylvia was stunned, but immediately filled with hope. She didn’t understand why he had stopped talking, as she hadn’t heard the footsteps. “Yes, go on, it was the, what?”

“Winston is coming.” Henry said.

“Oh you can trust Winston; he has been with the family since we moved here.” She stood up, and ran out to Winston, “Henry thinks that father may still be alive!” she said with glee.

Winston remained unfazed and looked at Henry and said, “You are as clever as master Culberson had hoped.”

Sylvia looked shocked, “You knew! Winston!” She was angry, but also thrilled, “It is true then?” She was almost shouting.

“Madame, you must lower your voice. I will try to explain.”

Henry let Winston explain, as he went back to the stacks. He went through each of the puzzle books and then it occurred to him that perhaps Winston knew where the next clue was. “Winston, do you have a message for me?”

“Yes sir. Mr. Culberson told me to let you know that he was very interested in animals of late.”

“That is the message?” Henry said, hoping for more, but not surprised by its cryptic nature. Undaunted he continued through the stacks until he found a section on the animal kingdom. There were dozens of books. A few books into the section, Henry noticed that these weren’t in alphabetical order by author, but were ordered by species, starting with ‘Ethel the Aardvark goes quantity surveying’, and ending with a thick book about zebras. It seemed that the section contained all the books that had anything to do with animals, fiction and non-fiction combined. Next to the book on beavers, was a book on cows then a book about crows.

Henry paused, could that be the clue, as a group of crows are called a murder. He opened it and flipped through the pages. If the clue was there, he didn’t get it. Henry decided to continue looking. The Tage Frid clue was one that only he would understand, so he was expecting that the next clue would be similar, and suddenly there it was, a book entitled, ‘Fox Habits’, sitting to the right of a book ‘A Gaggle of Geese’. It was out of order, just by one book, but that, combined with the last present from the closet, meant this had to be the book.

Henry opened to the title page and read the inscription.

Sitting in the twenty-fourth row, seat 3, I prepare to watch the Iowa State Cyclones take on the Missouri Tigers in women’s basketball.  To those who don’t follow NCAA division I women’s basketball, the Cyclones are one of the top programs in the country.  They are consistently in the top 20, and are currently ranked 13^th.  When attending an ISU game, be it men or women’s basketball, one is sure to be impressed by ‘Hilton Magic’.  The magic comes from the boisterous cheers of the fans, who I believe, supported the women enough to have the 4^th or 5^th highest attendance in the nation last year.

The style of play is fun to watch.  In their last home game, against Baylor, the women made 16 three pointers from only 33 attempts.  I look forward to the battle.

Sitting in row 24 and looking down at the polished hard wood floor, I think about my days working at Hilton Coliseum.  I was on the custodial staff in college and loved working the women’s games.  Back then, the crowds were much smaller, so it was an easy gig, plus I got to watch the games.  I think about days working custodial, about studying economics, and playing speed chess every chance I could.  I had no idea what life would be like after college.

The path chosen is markedly less interesting than the one I am on now.  I ran a candle manufacturing plant, worked as an analyst at GEICO, and spent 3 years building spaces in virtual worlds.  Each of those paths were interesting, but far less thrilling than running my hand across a piece of finely sanded hard maple or oak.  Feeling the smoothness and marveling at the beauty of the wood.  Woodworking, whether it is creating a jig for routing, reading a magazine or book on the subject, or wondering the isles at The Woodsmith Shop, it is the most fun I have ever had.  And let me tell you, there have been some pretty fun times.  Some of those times involved wearing a Santa suit, going on a bar crawl, and drinking more vodka than a Russian sailor on shore leave.

Admittedly, I remember more of the details from  my woodworking, so it may not be a fair comparison.  I do know that each day of the journey seems better than the day before.

While I tap my toes to the ISU band’s rendition of Dexie’s Midnight Runners, ‘Come On Eileen’, I review the day.  Since I was in Des Moines and away from my, and I use the term loosely, workshop, I couldn’t work on my router table.  I could, however, go to the Woodsmith Store.  I had one goal, to buy some practice wood.  When I purchased the bevy of DVDs from Taunton Press, I had included in the mix, one that dealt with the art of chip carving.  I don’t know much of anything about chip carving presently.  I do know that, for a novice, practicing on hard woods isn’t at all enjoyable.  In fact, it boarders on impossible.

The helpful people at The Woodsmith Store, pointed me to some small ¼ inch basswood.  I bought some of the basswood and a couple of magazines.

Time was not on my side.  I didn’t have nearly as much time as I would have liked.  For you see, I was in desperate need of an ‘Emergency Hair Cut’.  In just the nick of time, I pulled into Sports Clip, where Katie, rushed in and performed the incredibly complicated and difficult, hairectomy.  If I had been twenty minutes later, I probably wouldn’t have made it.  Katie was brilliant!  Cute as a button, she showed not the slightest bit of fear.  I left feeling confident that I would no longer frighten small children or cause, normally friendly dogs, to snarl and growl.

The crowd began to cheer.  The game was still 15 minutes from tipping, but Hilton was paying its respects to one of the greatest women’s basketball players in ISU history.  Angie Welle, number 32, ran up and down the floor from 1999-2003, and broke scores of records.  It was on her shoulders and those of the team from 2000, who beat Uconn, to advance to the Elite Eight in the NCAA tournament, that Bill Finley built his nationally respected basketball powerhouse.

The number 32 is unfurled from the rafters, the crowd cheers, and Angie Welle returns to sit with her friends, family and former teammates, in the stands.  The current starters jump out to an 18 – 2 lead.  Go Cyclones!

Sylvia looked at Henry, and cocked her head to the side.  It was obvious to her that he was deep in thought.  She didn’t understand why he suddenly felt like he had to sit down.

“Are you ok?  Would you like a drink?” she asked.

“I am fine, thank-you, and yes please.”  Henry said, still looking at the back of Bobby’s card and the business card that Sylvia had just handed him.  He knew he didn’t want to try and explain to her what he was thinking.  It would have struck him as impossible, were it not for his closet, which he had grown to accept.  He couldn’t imagine being able to explain it to Sylvia.

The distinctive sound of ice cubes landing in fine crystal went unnoticed by Henry.  Sylvia poured Henry a scotch rocks; she hadn’t asked what he wanted, because the look on his face was one of complete concentration.  She had seen it on her father’s face many times, and knew that it was best not to break his train of thought.  With the grace of a cat she set the drink on a coaster in front of Henry.

Henry was staring at the bookshelves behind the desk, but it looked like he was seeing past them, off to the horizon.  Off to the ends of the earth for all she knew.   A minute passed and slowly Henry reached out, slowly picked up the scotch, and took a sip.  He didn’t change his stare, but said, “Thanks, this is excellent.”

Sylvia whispered, “You’re welcome.”  She had returned to the desk and was watching him, completely intrigued by his motionlessness.  It was as if she stared into his eyes hard enough, she might see what he was thinking.

The deafening silence was shattered when Henry asked, “May I see your father’s lab?”

“Sure.”  Sylvia said, startled at the suddenness of his question.  She stood up, grabbed her drink, and headed into the hall.  Henry followed, taking sips of his drink as he walked.   They crossed the entryway; headed down a hall that was the mirror image of the one they had just left.  Henry was no longer paying attention to the art.  Before they got to the end, Sylvia opened the last door on the left, and Henry followed her through.

The room was long and rectangular; they passed through it, to a door at the far end.  This door led to a spiral staircase, which headed down.  Though Henry was still deep in thought, he did notice that they seemed to be going down more than just one story.  It felt like two or three.  They had passed a small door and continued on until they arrived at a heavy wooden door.  Sylvia lifted the latch and pushed the door open.  The hallway was entirely made of stone and felt like a dungeon, though it was lit with modern lighting.  Henry felt he should be carrying a torch.

Sylvia paused at the door at the end of the hall.  “I haven’t been down here since the explosion.  If you don’t mind, I will stay outside.”  She leaned down and pulled a flashlight out of a little wooden box sitting by the door.  She handed it to Henry.

“I understand.” He said, clicking on the light.  He opened the door and walked into the lab.  There was a burnt smell, but it wasn’t the same as his office, it was more of a sulfur smell.  The room was a large and circular in shape, with a very high domed ceiling.  It looked like there had been three workstations around a center area where there must have been something massive.  All that remained now was a crater.  The edges of the room had piles of equipment, glass and wood, which had been blasted out from the center.  There were large bits of the ceiling on the floor.  The basic structure still seemed sound, but the lab and its contents had been turned to a pile of rubble.

Henry walked all the way around the room.  He didn’t see anything helpful, so he turned off the flashlight and put it back in the box by the door.  He had something he wanted to ask, but he wasn’t sure how to broach the subject.  He already knew that Sylvia wasn’t tuned into her father’s work, but he had a theory, a crazy theory, so he decided to ease into the question.

“Was your father alone when the accident happened?”

Sylvia said, “Yes, he always worked alone.”

“Were you home when it happened?”  Henry asked, lowering his voice slightly.

“I was shopping at Macy’s, when Winston called and told me what had happened.”

“Winston?” Henry asked.

“He manages the house, you met him earlier.”  She said, giving a heavy sigh, as she remembered getting the call.

“Winston found the body, I mean, er, your father?”  Henry asked, stumbling a bit with his words.  That was the question he wanted to ask, but had hoped to be able to do it more delicately.

“We never found a body.  Everything was destroyed in the explosion.  He was the first one down here, if that is what you mean.”  She said.

“And you don’t have any idea what he was working on?” Henry asked, though he knew the answer.

“No idea at all.”

Henry had his answer.  He was developing a theory, but was a long way from figuring out where he was going to find the next clue.  He needed to get the journal to the district attorney and to find the key that would unravel its contents.  He was sure that there was something in this house that would point him in the right direction.  He hoped he would be able to spot it.  He decided to head back to Mr. Alexander’s office and take a closer look at the books.  Every clue had been very subtle, he was sure that trend would continue.  He would need to talk to Winston.