More information please. From cross country, a clear polite request. Her gentle Oklahoma accent could not mask underlying confusion. Even Aunt Flo knew I was using my chisel the wrong way. Time to change the conversation!
For several years violins have been coming across the table. In common with many? A misfitted fingerboard. Askew, misshapen, wrongly sized, they were permitted a challenged existence because I lacked tools and knowledge. One day I scraped away a blemish upon the ebony and discovered . . .
Ebony shaves nicely. It scrapes even better. With some lost cause violins on hand, I experimented with the sharpest edge I had, the side of my freshly honed Buck Bros. chisel. After a month of chisel abuse, the tool-sharpening guy was incredulous, cursing in his native manner. I knew it was bad from his furrowed brow, disrespect for his sharpened edges. Enough of my luthiery antics! Doing the unthinkable, I consult an expert. And found the right scraping tool was only a few dollars away.
Lie-Nielsen Hand Tool Event folks were in town, had the scrapers, allowed me hands-on examination, and provided sacrificial hardwoods – which I reduced to scrapings. They demonstrated sharpening and honing. For less than a Jackson, a pair of Lie-Nielsen scrapers in two gauges, delivered to my door.
We now achieve Top Hat performances, thinning new fingerboards by plane and scraping a smooth correct radius. The fun part? A final scraping of the neck / fingerboard seam. Two woods meeting so closely together, they feel like one. After a bit of love and caressing. From Lie-Nielsen.
Mom wouldn’t have it on the screened porch although it would be a perfect replacement for her time-ravaged plastic planter shelves. She had a solution: How about some paint?
“Ace is the Place” remains true. The same sticky oil-based Rust-Oleum of my youth is still available. But instead of slopping it all over our rusted swing-set, we went New Hat all the way. A set of wire brushes, half a dozen foam brushes, and half a pint of Flat Black. Sharing the labor, they set to wire-brushing while I made a pitcher of grapefruit-crush from scratch, fresh from the tree. While they sipped, I wire-brushed one more time. Then all of us, to the painting!
Daub, stoke, dab, swipe. All manner of applications. The Rust-Oleum covered wonderfully. Across both smooth and imperfect steel, its flat black reversing years of sun damage, the oil-based paint sticking tightly to the wrought surfaces. One coat was nearly perfect, but an hour later we hit a few spots with another light coat. Wow, what a transformation! Rust-Oleum, still a winner for the professional and do-it-yourselfer alike!
Unlimited time is chaff to the Gods. What we crave, they suffer. In amusing their idleness, they direct me, puppet-like, to another garage sale. I think I’m searching for a used Lie-Nielsen #102 hand plane, but their machinations prefer otherwise.
Cold road-tripping mornings remind me of the “Old Man” comment suffered even in my 20’s. I like a wool throw over my legs and knees to fight the chill. Before me, in an out-of-the-way yard sale, upon the mixed textiles pile, is a nice scrap of tartan. Wool. Perfect size. A few small meals extracted, but largely left untouched by moths. Neutral smell. Good signs, all.
We bargain the old-fashioned way. She said eight dollars and I quickly accepted. A small pile of worn Yankee dollars and silver pour from my hand into her jug. I am the newest caretaker of this fine Amana wool throw. Handcrafted in Iowa since 1855.
A perfect companion to winter mornings in the Southwest. If that cat jumps upon my lap, I may stay here until lunch!
With a name like Superior, you’re thinking lush vacation getaway? Maybe for an engineer. It is a small mining town nestled up against the Superstition Mountains. Sitting atop one of the largest copper resources in North America. For the film hounds: numerous movies have been set in Superior. For the gardeners: Superior is home to Boyce Thompson Arboretum. Founded in 1925, the arboretum is the largest and oldest botanical garden in Arizona. – wiki
We take a break from winter vacation to bring you a few recent snaps. Our favorite area of Boyce Thompson Arboretum, their trail leading along the Queen Creek Riparian Area, is just past the eucalyptus grove. With monthly rainfall 2.0″ at most, the creek bubbles near year-around, keeping the canyon a pleasure to all.
When it was time to shave boxwood bushings whisker-close on an 1880s pegbox, advice was sought. Spending other people’s money has never been a problem for my circle of advisors. All manner of chisel manufacturers were recommended. I settled for a couple of used Buck Bros. chisels brought back to lovely health by a pro.
Months later, I learn craftsperson Jayne Henderson had visited a Maine manufacturer recommended by my acquaintances. Even better, a hand tool demonstration at Independence Seaport Museum, Penn’s Landing, will feature these Lie-Nielsen tools. Perfect timing, as we want additional guidance on wood planes and sharpening techniques.
Lie-Nielsen sent their crack team of cabinet makers / salesmen to Philadelphia. Examples, answers, explanations, it flowed with an easy pace. Two items of immediate interest: use of a scraper, and sharpening a hand plane blade.
A scraper is a thin flat piece of steel with a sharply squared edge. One can scrape the thinnest shavings of wood with such a tool. The answer to my use question moved to sharpening the scraper, truing its edge. A crowd quickly gathered as the representative covered the simple technique of producing the correct scraper edge. Guess it was not only me wanting help!
In covering planes I might purchase for general use repairing instruments, it also came back to care of the blade. The Lie-Nielsen honing guide is the nicest piece of sharpening equipment in the business. After the demonstration plane had its blade sharpened, staff was removing hair-thin wisps of ribbon from a block of maple. The wood was left mirror-smooth. Amazing!
Their chisels? $55 buys you the nicest wood chisel in the world. The feel is heavenly, the machining impeccable, and the quality of the metal, unbeatable.
Luxury items or wood shop essentials? Maybe both, but it’s a tool you’ll have the rest of your life. I bought the scrapers. Next big job, a Lie-Nielsen hand plane, a chisel, and sharpening tools are joining the bench!
My favorite shoes
Good taste doesn’t cost a lot. Great style never goes out of fashion. Flashy is for other people.
A family friend I’d see at holidays and birthdays wore the same loafers year after year. Plain, leather, hand-sewn. From a respectable New England cordwainer. His loafers developed the most wonderful patina, the soft leather fitting his stride and personality. In the absence of a better word, they were best described as cool.
He was of remarkable perspicacity. A man everyone admired. I tried to understand his cool disposition and viewpoints from the ground up. Starting, naturally, with his taste in shoes. His chosen manufacturer had skedaddled to foreign production, but Kenny Sherman had several options.
I balked at the price, Kenny danced a bit around the subject, but always came back to quality. Now over eight years old, my Alden suede loafers, hand-sewn in New England, have proven to be the MOST comfortable shoes on the planet. And value? Even at today’s list price, divided by years owned, they’re cheap.
My depth of personality is still under review, but the concept stuck. Well-made items last longer and provide far more enjoyment of ownership. My kickers, closing in on a decade old? Just getting broken in. Cheers!
One of the handiest items on my workbench is the Juzek peg shaper. Nearly every violin in line exhibits peg issues. An ill-fitted “emergency” peg, in place for decades, inexorably ruining the peg box due to ignorance, empty pockets, or economy. Absent pegs. No pegs. Archaic peg hole taper.
With a peg shaper we’re able to fit a new set of pegs “from scratch” any time we choose. Last week it almost didn’t happen, though. What started as a routine shaving experience became a scraping. Hardwood dust was produced with no significant reduction in peg diameter.
Upon advice from every point of the windrose, we’ve recently delved into the dark arts of metal sharpening. Just as my forbearers scraped early bronze blades across stone, we remove the peg sharpener’s blade and scrape it across our new Gator Sharpening Stone.
Held at the manufacturer’s proscribed angle, eased by a 99.5% water mixture with natural lubricants added, a circular action was initiated. Just like on an old Daniel Boone movie. Three times we reinstall and test. It works! Also of import, we’ve learned the limitations of our small one-grit stone.
Clyde’s Hardware Store, closing its doors forever, managed to save their last stone for me. My first sharpening stone. We’ll be adding to our collection in future articles, but for now, we achieve an adequate edge with the Gator.
Special thanks to Philadelphia luthier David Michie. His customers, Academy Of Music, Curtis, and Kimmel Center musicians, bring him an endless array of stringed instruments for refurbishment and repair. Cast-off violin pegs from these instruments soften our learning curve and now grace student violins across the Western Hemisphere.
In the steel town of my parents’ childhood, life moved at a different pace. Many people lacked a telephone. Television was a new and rather worthless invention. Texting? The closest was telegraph and maybe a stock market ticker. No “code words”? LOL 🙂 Code words and phrases abounded, as old as the hills. Maybe written by Moses herself.
Newlyweds jokingly said they ate a lot of apples, referring to the Garden of Eden, Eve & Adam, and their newfound lust for apples. But my dentist also promotes this perfect fruit, and he’s atheist. Something about working the teeth, exercising the gum line?
Turning to his simple health advice decades ago, I’ve too decided the apple is a perfect fruit. Portable, properly packaged, pennies a pound. Maybe a bit more silver these days, but still a value.
Honeycrisps, newly picked, waft their scent from my fridge. Pink Lady, Gala, Jonagold, all delectable. Pick your favorite farmers market, find a grower, and select a few beauties of smooth unbruised skin. Prepare for deliciousness. Bonus: Your sweetheart will find your close presence even tastier. Maybe the serpent was on to something. I’ll bet a good theologian can find reference to morning groping in the Bible, right after breakfast kisses.
Lancaster County has been shipping produce to Philadelphia since the mid-1700s. Hands On The Earth Orchard from Lititz PA continues this tradition, weekly attending a Saturday farmers market along Walnut Street at Rittenhouse Square.
Native Americans, in what would become Pennsylvania, practiced agriculture for centuries before the arrival of Europeans. By the eleventh century, they had developed a high-yield system of slash and burn farming. Creating fields by clearing brush, and girdling and burning trees to let the sun reach the soil, they then planted beans, corn, and squash together – a method of planting that was advantageous to the crops and the people. Beans climbed up the cornstalks and fixed nitrogen in the soil that fertilized the corn and squash. The resulting network of roots and tendrils inhibited weed growth and helped to retain moisture in the soil. Beans, corn, and squash – better known to the Indians as the Three Sisters – provided a very nutritious diet that was high in amino acids, fiber, protein, and vitamins. http://explorepahistory.com
All good things come to an end. A proverb of glorious filler to any article! 🙂 Dropped into conversation to make the speaker sound insightful and connected. A bumper guard which comes out on auto-pilot while trying to think up something more cogent.
Today it refers to a hardware store up the street, nearly within wrist-rocket range. A 5 minute uphill huff on bicycle. Clyde’s Home Supplies is closing. While Sam Clyde doesn’t look it, he is 72, and feels every year. I’m gently informed He may not look as old as he is as you’re gotten older? Hmmmmm .. ciphering that one out, I think she is saying I’m getting older.
With his Ace Hardware store now offering 60% off, we’re stocking up. Lots of plumbing and electrical fittings, sheets of sand paper. And there, on a high shelf, the last sharpening stone they have. Gator Finishing. The same brand as the black oxide sandpaper I use. Calling me. It’s finally time to learn how to put an edge on my knife.
With a few old blades handy for ruination, I cannot do too much damage with such a small stone. What I think will happen? I’ll correct the edge on a chisel a few times, then go speak with the old guy from southern Italy. More properly, I’ll stand mute, and catch every other word of his barrage. Then invest in a larger stone. Big things have small beginnings.
The ideal violin neck is subjective. It changes as you grow, develop, and mature. Perfect today is old hat tomorrow. The neck itself moves, as does the fingerboard. Not as quickly as our tastes but more like a painting of a slow tortoise.
The fingerboard is shaped with a radius across it’s width. The other direction, parallel with the strings, looks flat. But it is actually curved. String height is so low on a violin that without longitudinal concavity – the fingerboard’s scoop – vibrating strings would buzz against the fingerboard.
When a favored fiddler’s favorite fingerboard appeared beyond flat, clearly convex along its length, it was time to learn the art of the scoop. After chipping up a few natty practice fingerboards, I tried a good one. It was easier. Quality wood shaves more cleanly. “Scraping” of the fingerboard was performed. Seemingly random, together the strokes produced a concave surface to the fingerboard. Nearly flat along the high E edge. Visually pronounced along the low G. Gradations in between. Finally, comparison of the newly scooped violin fingerboard with my Products Engineering Corporation straight edge. Convex no more. Just the right amount of concavity.
After the scraping comes the sanding. Dusty thirsty work with multiple grits of scratch cloth. 220, 320, 400, 600, 800, 1,000. The glossy finish I want? The easy way is to dump sealer over it, a thick polymer coating. But tradition prefers bare wood. We scraped and sanded the old sealer off the fingerboard during the scooping. The reshaped wood now prefers special attention. The musician wants skin-smooth wood under their fingertips. A natural shine is wanted.
Micro Mesh makes it easy. With products developed for fine art restoration, our slat of century-old ebony is no challenge. Working up through the colored grits, the wood begins gleaming at about 6,000 grit. But do we stop? No! All the way to 12,000 grit, buffing like the best Park Avenue manicurist. The wood shines!
We started using Micro Mesh Buffing Sticks a few years back, touching up a bit of mandolin here and there. Then discovered an ebony violin nut can be made to shine. After a few more fingerboard refurbishments, we’re sold on Micro Mesh. Fingerboard sealers we’ll save for fretted instruments. All of our fine stringed instrument fingerboards are going out the door bare wood shining. Sparkling like Eve’s smile ≈≈≈
A CAMPBELL’S SOUP ARTICLE planned this week had to be postponed. The reference material was eaten before pictures could be taken. We can report, in preview, sodium levels seem to be lower. The tester was of the expired variety, not unknown in this house. A bit tinny but warming with nighttime winds of -15˚ buffeting the windows.
The East Coast has been icebound for days. We’re informed a heat wave is on its way. Wind-chill temperatures are expected to soar into the balmy single digits by midday. Commerce never ground to a complete halt, but was quieted for several revolutions.
Enforced lethargy is about to have its restrictive shell shattered. After this last cup of java, it is time for severe weather gear. A broken drain deep under a commercial kitchen floor is keeping Jerry from emptying his mop bucket. Measure, estimate, sell. With cast iron work on the horizon, we have another Charlotte article in the making.
Two national lotteries located winners this weekend. Over a billion annuity dollars dispensed. Yesterday’s Powerball drawing found a Merrimack NH winner. Our first thought is of the Anheuser Busch brewery in Merrimack, now producing a delicious Bass Ale for domestic health and consumption. Over the pond, our cousins report this effort to be passable.
Two dollars get you balcony seating to dream of millions within a country-sized arena. It doesn’t take much to feel a winner, though. A roof, some clothes, a bit of vittles from time to time, someone who cares, and perhaps purpose for the ambitious. And now, a kick out the door, please. There’s money to be made.
Closing out 2017, you’d think we have a long-planned article filled with deep thinking and cute anecdotes. Ha! Barely able to keep up with dry winter skin and filling the constantly empty cat food bowl – where does he put it? – this week’s installment has taken Second Stage.
Following Andy Weir with a NASA Mars feature seemed appropriate. Wow, that image from the Mars Spirit Rover (2004) reminds me of Northern Arizona. How’d you like to drop your orbital vehicle keys out there? Always something keeping us up from what is planned ≈
Holiday cheer has slowed digestion, winter winds, 0˚F this very morning, have stunted typing, and general life activities have crowded thinking. A reoccurring theme, it is the little things which keep us from reaching our potential. A drawerful of items rattling about, a bucket of issues getting knocked over. Likewise, the little things put us over our potential. Matched socks. A tidy refrigerator. The sidewalk clear from snow.
As amazing as NASA landing a 180 kilogram (400 pound) ATV on the next planet over sounds, they dropped a bigger ride, five times heavier, less than a decade later. ATB Prediction: permanent inhabited Mars colony in 80 years.
Here’s to you, the special few,
We lift our mug of jasmine.
With steaming milk and honey too,
A comfortable companion.
Naturally, we close out 2017 with some great music by Phish: “Back On The Train” (2000)
When I jumped off, I had a bucket full of thoughts
When I first jumped off, I held that bucket in my hand
Ideas that would take me all around the world
I stood and watched the smoke behind the mountain curl
It took me a long time to get back on the train
Now I’m gone and I’ll never look back again
I’m gone and I’ll never look back at all
You know I’ll never look back again
I turn my face into the howlin’ wind
It took me a long time to get back on the train
See my face in the town that’s flashing by
See me standing at the station in the rain
See me running there beside the car
I left it all behind, again I’ll travel far
It took me a long time to get back on the train
When I jumped off, I had a bucket full of thoughts
When I first jumped off, I held that bucket in my hand
Ideas that would take me all around the world
I stood and watched the smoke behind the mountains curl
It took me a long time to get back on the train
It took me a long time to get back on the train
It took me a long time to get back on the train
Last week a book on CD came into my possession. I listen to these in my truck. After the first few paragraphs, I anticipated travel time in the GMC like a dog hearing his leash. The proverbial “old men” maneuvering their ancient Oldsmobiles at a trot pass me along the road as I carefully catch every traffic light. The “travel” in “travel time” was never so enjoyable.
Yes, the writer is amazing. Andy Weir hears this all the time so I need not repeat it. I wonder if he imagined himself Mark Watney ~ I’d bet Andy had to, but that will be another article. Yeah, the upcoming interview, after his people and my people get our schedules in sync. 🙂
At first I did not realize – sorry Matt – this was the book made into a movie. R. C. Bray NAILS narration so convincingly. He becomes each of the characters and owns it so totally, you’d think he wrote it. Our researchers memo’d me R.C.’s closest exposure to aeronautics is paper airplanes, so ghost writing rumors, begone!
Thinking I finally had something new to share with my nephew, I planned to introduce this fine novel to his young inquisitive mind. Yes, the kid is brilliant, but I figure the book is mature enough that he’d have to read it by flashlight under the covers. “Oh yeah, I read that a couple years ago. Great book. And we saw the movie too”. Soccer ball deflated! Where did this kid find the time to turn out so humble and pleasant?
Taking my nephew’s queue, I’ve secured the DVD. I’ll repeat his experience. I am not jealous of his youth or covet his upcoming opportunities, but do regret not noticing how quickly he has grown into a young man. More reflection is in order. After the movie. Pass the popcorn, please.
Great movie! Thanks Matt for your hard work!
Our coffers are as bare as our drafts folder. Not a farthing to be had for road trips, not a whiff of wit & wisdom nor waft of wistful words this week. Perusing past articles, we remark again upon this comment from a reader:
Sometimes, amid the beautiful scenery and steady cadence of the horse’s steps and wagon wheels, we forget how the search began and discover pleasures unanticipated.
A budget trip in search of mid-December adventure, a tale of Americana, is undertaken. We sample the afternoon stroll. Take the pulse of The City. Maybe some busking on the accordion. Conduct a Smiles Count. A lustrum back it was under 20%, so we have a baseline of sorts. Well, it is a bit overcast. Plus we’d have competition from the filming of Tuba Christmas. Bah!
Onward through Rittenhouse Square in deep contemplation. Winter brings greater enjoyment of Campbell’s Baked Beans. We consider an article on this fine example of American entrepreneurship. We could even do a tie-in with vegan, gluten-free … wait … the pork … oh, traces of wheat … wow, look at that sodium! But they sure are good, smothered in hot sauce!
Past the Square, a story continues to elude. We’re late for Alma’s Christmas party. Fresh-baked sugar cookies with red and green sprinkles. Mmmmmmm. Family and friends. Happiness and love and forgiveness and compassion. The “spirit of the holidays” has excellent characteristics which would work year around. But not all of them, or my waistline would be *burp* light-years round.
Winter weather brings winter water. Reservoir water sitting out, like the porch cat’s water bowl. Gets pert’ cold this time of year. Freezes over, even. What does that water do to plumbing system innards? Not a whole lot, if you’ve got good materials. One component you do not want failing? The flapper inside your toilet tank. The part that opens to let the toilet flush, and closes to let the tank refill.
In 1954 Korky invented the first toilet flapper. This technology is still used today. Their current reliability is so good, Korky warrants their premium product at 5 years. Ten years for their double super premium ‘Ultra’ product line.
Last week my toilet flapper failed to drop over the flush valve. It ‘stuck open’ and the tank tried to fill it self all night long. After morning coffee, I didn’t hesitate. Picking up a new radiator valve for Widow Baxter, I had Mike toss a couple of Korkys into the sack. Replacement was fast and easy. The old red Korky had an accumulation of minerals on it but the rubber was still pliable. Yes, I probably could have cleaned and reinstalled it, but a few bucks for another lustrum or longer of reliability? No brainer.
The Korky premium toilet tank flapper, made with chlorine resistant rubber. This basic component of modern life has done as much to promote health, convenience, and conservation as refrigerated food. Six Thumbs Up to Lavelle Industries of Burlington, Wisconsin!
Chlorazone® rubber is Lavelle’s proprietary family of elastomeric formulations that is specifically designed to withstand chemicals found naturally in water or added to it by municipal treatment facilities. Introduced in 1990, it was the first chlorine-resistant material made available for plumbing applications. Lavelle
Four years ago we eagerly put the spotlight on one of America’s finest headlamps, a SureFire variable output LED model. This same headlamp has delved into dank dripping sub-basements, explored maze-like warrens of cells within former workhouses, and camped along a raging Gardner River atop the Wyoming-Montana border. We’ve even inched upon glutes and blades in such cramped quarters, a pipe or two had to be removed.
The only thing my 2012 SureFire Minimus has NOT done is fail to work perfectly. A few blinks tells me the SureFire CR123 battery is ending its usefulness. Dial down the output and prepare to swap its single battery.
My 2012 model has endured such intense duty, I had to acquire a new elastic adjustable headband. The up-down swivel is getting a little loose in its carriage but is not yet an issue. Without a doubt, this flashlight is one of the most useful items in my tool satchel. What could be better than the Surefire Minimus? How about a second Surefire Minimus.
The opportunity appeared to acquire a copy gifted in 2013. While mine has gone through boxes of batteries, this one has consumed only one. 50 hours runtime maximum on this Minimus. Its knurled aluminum clean, deep into the checkering. Headband virtually unused. Battery compartment has that new equipment smell.
There’s no excuse to clearly see problems and issues now. Surefire lights my way.
The SureFire Minimus Vision Variable-Output LED Headlamp has been upgraded, replaced by a headlamp with FOUR TIMES the output while achieving even better battery life. HS2-MV-A-BK surefire.com
Back in the day, working with top quality materials was normal, an everyday affair. There was demand for the best, local supply houses stocked the best, tradespeople used the best. Then came the wave of Big Box Home Centers. Pennies, and soon dollars, were pinched off every job. Available materials became more generic. But in doing our best, doesn’t that start with the best tools and materials?
A renovation job was going south. Repiping a bathroom from below, I discover grout or thinset (the sticky mortar in which one sets tiles) followed a copper water supply pipe through its floor penetration. The mortar was attached rock solid to the copper. Tight quarters for polishing copper preparatory to soldering, the proverbial & literal ‘rock and a hard place’. My assistant went at it with his ‘standard quality’ scratch cloth, but halfway materials produce halfway results. Time to break out the good stuff.
Into my torch bag I retrieved a length of blue scratch cloth. Waterproof, for what is plumbing if not dealing with water? Linen-backed, giving this 120-J grit scratch cloth long-lasting flexibility. The same cloth I’ve trusted for decades. Mill-Rose.
When it’s time to take it all off, I reach for the world leader in abrasive scratch cloth. Copper oxides are but a memory to this durable abrasive cloth. Paint is pulverized. The mortar on our copper? Back into dust. (Yes, I wear a respirator on every job!) The ability to overcome any obstacle, that is where the quality of Mill-Rose shines.
Leave nothing to chance. When it’s time to replenish supplies, don’t take what is offered. Ask your supply house for Mill-Rose.
Serendipity. A silly word. Pretentious in all its syllables. Plumbers and purveyors of ice cream think of “dip wells”, where an ice cream scooper rests under a perpetual flow of water between customers. The office staff had their ideas: Pink Oxford, plaid pants. Croquet on the south lawn with Buffy and Trevor”. Whatever all that means. Maybe its time for their tea and biscuits.
Our glorious local library, stocked with DVDs from world-wide TV series, recently acquired 800 Words of New Zealand fame. The word serendipity came up. With an actual definition (according to their editors).
Serendipity is a word coined over 250 years ago by the English author Horace Walpole from the title of a fairytale in which the heroes were always making discoveries by accident. – George, 800 Words. Season 2, Part I, Episode 4.
While taking a break from convoluted inter-cabinet quad coiling during the installation of a T&S Brass glass filler at a local college *hic* institution, I strolled the aisle between bar and beer merchandiser. And upon the morning buffet table spied a new, most impressive wall clock. “The kids broke the old one. Brian just got this. We have to hang it”, explains Bonnie.
A beautiful, brand new Yuengling neon wall clock manufactured in Perryopolis PA. The same clock company featured last week. The beer of my formative years. No ATB article yet on tap. Content drops onto my mental keyboard. “Order up“, I imagine Hanif calling through the kitchen window.
America’s oldest brewery, Yuengling, of Pottsville PA, buys their promotional clocks in Perryopolis. Yuengling Traditional Lager, elixir of the Gods, a perfect mate to pizza, pretzels, and stuffed Italian hoagies, immortalized upon a beautiful 20″ neon clock. Logo expertly screened onto sheet aluminum. Powder coat exterior finish. Optical glass – will not “yellow” over time – secured to the bezel with industrial epoxy. A real gem of a clock. Magnificent craftsmanship. The picky plumber finds not a single hair out-of-place. SIX thumbs up to all!!!
What about this serendipity stuff? I’ve almost forgotten myself. It was having no piece completed for deadline, installing one American-made product, and seeing another which worked better for the article. Sort of like desert to last week’s main course. Discovered in a fine 5th generation restaurant. Cheers!
You never know what can be learned with eyes open to your surroundings. So many people bury their faces toward sophisticated electronic gadgets. Do they escape opportunities to exercise imagination? Prepare for the future by exploring the past?
A typical service station waiting room appears the perfect nest of boredom. Whip out “phones”, text furiously to important people, pace outside, shout into a line mic while gesturing animatedly. Yes, you ARE important, you tell the world. But maybe time waiting is time to think? Introspection has its rewards.
Full circle was I rewarded recently by keeping the phone in its pocket. With phoneless pacing at the tire shop I’m able to admire this handsome wall clock from all angles. Smiles as its origin is discovered. Right here in the Keystone State! Pics are snapped and filed. The thought of an article? Not yet.
But what is this Perryopolis? Surrounded by the finest Greek pizzerias outside Italy, I’m confident of the town’s origins. WRONG! Perryopolis was named for 28-year old Hero Of Lake Erie, Oliver Hazard Perry. The town? Laid out by George Washington himself, called New Boston at the time.
Big SMILING thumbs up for making the finest marketing clocks, Image Time! Continental / General Tire picked a winner! Wow, more delicious history exposed. Uncle Jerry worked at a beer distributor his whole life, bringing home plaster Rolling Rock displays and the occasional wall clock. Bet the clocks were made by Image Time!
When it’s time to booze up, we have many choices. Clyde stocks gallons of generic hooch. With adult-proof lid, can rust, and drippy spout, we may buy in desperation or ignorance but regret our choice. Acquire in haste, repent in leisure.
We’re dabbling into the arcane world of spirit varnishes and stains. After the tool sharpening guy from Southern Italy insulted me, it’s likely I’ve transcended the hobbyist. Genuine need for solvent worthy of a professional spurs investigation.
Internet research brings to mind Fido chasing his tail. More opinions than the autumn leaves we crunch across during an evening stroll. To filter flow & clarify consumption, we contact National Finishes Expert Phillip Pritchard and confirm what we suspect. Hunches are backed with facts. Myths dispelled. When it is time to get our Varnish On, there is only one choice. The professional choice. Behkol.
We ask Phillip the advantages of Behlen spirit solvent over 190 proof hooch or hardware store quality denatured alcohol, when working with spirit varnishes. We cannot possibly paraphrase Phillip’s wisdom; an excellent quote you will have! – ATB
190 PROOF HOOCH IS 95% ethanol and 5% water. It is designed for drinking purposes, best enjoyed after applying your finish. Off the shelf denatured alcohol, sold primarily as a cleaning solvent, is a high concentration of ethanol and enough denaturant to prevent human consumption. Alcohol is hydroscopic and naturally draws water from the environment; in a general purpose cleaning solvent it should pose no harm but there’s no telling how much water it contains.
Behlen Behkol Solvent also contains a high concentration of ethanol, but it’s carefully sourced and controlled for minimal water content. The denaturant used is less toxic than other common choices. We add a stabilizing solvent to provide a greater shelf life for your dissolved shellac. All solvents used in Behkol are alcohols and are carefully selected for better shellac compatibility. This does add cost to Behkol Solvent, but it is purposely formulated for use as a shellac solvent, eliminates solvent related issues and provides higher performance when finishing with shellac. – Phillip Pritchard
Some like a consistently predictable & conforming life. With bouts on the wild side. My porch cat is an example. While bucolic autumn afternoons beneath the maple out front are his norm, he is up to something other times. Despite an inflated show of chasing cats off his patch, there is evidence he may be hanging with the wrong crowd. He wouldn’t be the first cat to take a trip under the fence.
When that happens, FTIs can follow. The dreaded transmitted feline issues. A rare case of fleas, it seems. Rare, because he gets the liquid on his nape. As a Russian Blue -he identifies as Ossetian- his thick fur offers protection. In general, he keeps his snout clean.
But fleas there were. Banished outside for a spell, I went on attack with 20 Mule Team Borax about his crate. And collared his condition with the name everyone trusts. Hartz.
Back to the laid-back loafer lifestyle, his significant belly swings with a little more amplitude. Even more cool on block patrol. A Hartz collar is a status symbol. His prosperous look provides him envious stares, but his Hartz collar sends a message. He’s got health care.
I’d seen it before. The guy on a PBS woodworking show. 30 minutes of fantasy. How easily shavings magically fall from his project. Was he carving balsa wood?
When finally I tried it, complete disaster. Chunks of wood removed. Deep divots. Chisel following grain instead of my will. I accept the truth. Repressed for years, it is time to face fact. My chisels are not sharp enough.
I had been putting this off even longer than learning the art of flossing back molars. Yet it was not a girlfriends’ insistence this time. An older woman’s beckoning desires had me considering the sharper edge.
This old violin wants her bushing pegs trimmed close. Flush close. Pink skin on a chilly autumn morning close. But leave the surrounding wood intact. A visit with the old guy from Southern Italy is more than helpful.
Antonio eyes my chisel suspiciously. It looks remarkably like a combination spackle knife, pry bar, hole punch, and packing iron. Respectfully he does not toss it into the rubbish bin, but brushing it aside, places a newspaper-wrapped parcel upon the counter. Lunch?
Here is a sharp chisel. This is what you need, he tells me with many extra syllables. Wow, is this refurbished chisel sharp! Back at the table, boxwood bushing pegs are conquered. Slicing against the grain, wafer-thin shavings appear. Translucent, they remind me of ginger root prepared for tea. Only thinner.
The following week, taking my new chisel back for consultation, Antonio animatedly launches into a general attack upon all tradespeople. I am lumped into “all tradespeople”. A satisfying classification. I am one of many, using the tool wrong. Backwards. Upside down. With no formal training, I accept the professional sharpener’s compliment. We’ve made it to the big time.
Our gift of services was excitedly bid higher and higher at the annual ATB Charity Ball. Privately we speculate what the winner(s) would choose for us. 3rd shift dog kennel cleaning at the animal rescue? Working a busy birthday at Lawrence Latimer Lewis’s Llama Laughhouz?
More exciting, it turns out. Record and host an audio book! Far harder than it sounds. Because everything we do at ATB, we do for posterity. One thing which made it easy, made us look like pros? Our old music stand.
The same music stand which drove Doc to sputtering apoplexy within the bluegrass circle is again pressed into venerable service. Requisitioned, delivered, dusted, it is looking new. Recording gear set up. Microphones checked. Red light in 90 seconds. Producer to the Blue Room.
Everything went wrong. Even the words on the pages kept jumping all about, but that was probably from laughing. The constant, perfect performer? My music stand. The same kind we used in school. Only this one was never tossed without ceremony into the back of a yellow school bus. Still looking chipper but older than my favorite loafers.
The employee-owned Manhasset could make this stand a little less perfect. Instead they make a multigenerational product, valued, cherished, remembered. The statistics of romance and yes, marriage, between high school stand-mates are overwhelming. 99.9% of the time, love blossomed behind a Manhasset. ∆
The timely delivery of a D’Addario & Co. promotional mug. As with everything they do, even their mugs are of screamingly good quality. I extract the mug from packaging and pour out my order of small luthier parts, cleverly included inside the cup. Upon the bottom of the cup, a welcome sight: The Stars & Bars circled by the name Ceramic Source.
Usually I see the D’Addario logo about once a week, stringing up a fresh victim upon the table. It’ll be every day now. And every evening washing up, the Ceramic Source logo. Thumbs up!
Hey, didn’t Ceramic Source also do the mugs for Old City Coffee?
The 1860s violin had a rough life. Through celebration and funeral, joy and woe, work and pleasure, countless songs found voice. Probably a trade instrument, sold to one of the trade musicians who supplied background, accompaniment, and main attractions before radio.
First to a right-handed player and later to a southpaw, a well-penciled calendar kept this fiddle busy for decades. At some point, perhaps in the 1920s, the peg box could take no more abuse. Donated to a church, and into a closet it rested, used as backup to the backup.
Neighborhoods change. The church moved. At their giant rummage sale this gem made its way onto a long folding table covered with relics. Purchased and sold yet again, changing hands from New England into the Keystone was a welcome destiny. This time not to play second fiddle. She is getting the full spa treatment!
Everything looks wrong for this wandering minstrel, but she has backbone and spunk. Incense wafts from the f-holes, Alma Pané informs me. Hmmmmm! Mystery solved? As I ream the peg holes to round, the intriguing smell released from its wood finally explained ~ ~
She’s getting peg hole bushings. I ream the peg holes back to round, insert and glue fitted boxwood peg hole bushings into the holes, and cut them flush with the peg box. Then the bushings get drilled and reamed for new pegs. A lovely experience for any fiddle, the excitement of momentarily returning to life as a violin! But those protrusions of extra bushing are not going to surrender placement without a fight.
Just in time, I discover Zona and their lovely razor saws. With this precision blade I’m able to safely cut within a couple hundredths of the peg box. Far less wood to slice away with my chisel. Papa always said, “Stick with what you’re good at”. I’m better at cutting wood than shaving wood, so there you go!
1860 nears completion. With D’Addario 4/4 Helicore Low Tension strings, 1860 will again be kicking up the hootenanny and serenading lovers, young and old.
Recently the emergency call went out from Francis Salon. Inexplicably a rinse hose at their shampoo station periodically sprays into the room! A mystery worthy of Star Trek but sorted out soon enough. Of more intriguing interest is a blow dryer headed for the rubbish bin. Dropped on its tail, backbone smashed, its destiny the American cure. Throw it out and buy another.
In the business of fixing anything, the dryer is rescued and queued for table service. Bill’s centenarian violin shipped, an 1860s trade violin pushed aside, the fractured Francis Salon blow dryer takes its eager place. The same temporary cure to a cast iron rain pipe last year becomes a permanent cure for Alma Pané. A piece of Oatey two part epoxy is sliced off the roll, kneaded for a minute within nitrile-clad hands, then pushed into the hair dryer’s fractured handle. In minutes the epoxy cures, becoming harder than the plastic grip, a chemical Forever Bond.
Payment via Greek salad fresh from Alma’s garden settles nicely in my belly. I’m wondering how to record this on my accounting ledger as gratuity is accepted. At least I’ll be presentable at the IRS audit, with trim hair and shaven neck.
LITTLE DEER ISLE, MAINE Generational downsizing had Jeff moving fiddles. In the right place, I acquired a Johann Baptist Schweitzer Copy of 1813 in rare good condition. Down the Eastern Seaboard the Baptist (bap•TEEST) was shipped. To Pennsylvania for mild refurbishment, strings, set-up, then further south to William in Georgia. Its stop-over proved to be more than a quick pat on the back. The pegbox was wonky.
While this instrument may have been made for 1:20 taper pegs, someone had later used modern 1:30 taper pegs. The new standard has provided superior tuning performance and pegbox health since its inception about 1900. This narrower peg, however, will not fit simply by “shoving it in as hard as you can”.
In a fog, flummoxed by ratios and angles, we turn to two of the best luthiers and mathematicians in the world for answers. The question, “What’s the difference?”
From Ontario: Basic trigonometry gives tan(angle)=rise/run. The angle is then inverse tan(rise/run), which gives an angle of 87.14 degrees. The compliment is 2.86 degrees. Thus, your 1:20 reamer is 2.86 degrees. – Charles Tauber
Not to be outdone, we’re gifted the link to a “Taper & Angle Calculation” program from a reader in Tatamagouche, the village in Nova Scotia. A 1:30 taper is scarcely larger, 3.33%
Closer examination reveals it is no big deal. With existing peg hole damage, it’s not even six-of-one, half-a-dozen of the other. We’re saved the expense, for now, of an imported Old World specialty reamer. Bill is still waiting in Georgia; lead time leaps forward. My domestic Juzek 1:30 tapered reamer with three straight cutting flutes works perfectly. The Juzek peg shaver (USA production with some imported parts) produces both blisters and perfect pegs. A little pool cue chalk on the peg surfaces, along with D’Addario Kaplan Amo strings, completes the job.
Steve Fields played the finished restoration at Woodside Creamery Farm yesterday. He pronounces the effort, “Perfect!” Another All-Smiles-Day!
ATB ORBITAL VEHICLE – We decide to postpone reentry due to Hurricane Irma. Friends far below evacuate or hunker down. Decisions made for better or worse. Thirst for news has the internet chunking and stuttering. Texting seems most reliable.
As do people the world over, Americans love their phones. Big or small. Full service or voice and text only. The younger generation are the ones with faces buried into phone screens. Overlooked are the more -ahem- mature among us. We love our phones as well. Texting has hit an all-time popularity among those sending affectionate notes to one another all day and night. And no one does it like the older generation. Because we have a secret.
Initialisms are the future. When you see an octogenarian walking through the park, smiling, looking starry-eyed at her phone, her guy probably just texted NKNC (Neck kisses and caresses). Maybe it is a hookup. You are never too old. More probably, a long-term relationship based on respect and trust.
Approaching autumn. I can smell it, especially at night. Falling leaves. Campbell’s Tomato Soup & Premium Saltine Crackers. The garden, finally tamed. But now? Still a roiling cacophony of God’s goodness. Yet among pleasures of Eve & Adam evil does exist. In the form of a nasty rash starting on my fingers, spreading to neck and knee.
Winds of Darwin set forth upon my acreage a new weed, lively, unpretentious, with hidden secrets. Insects quickly grasped its unpleasantness. To me, weeks would pass before lesson was learnt.
First, home remedies. Smeared honey had a cooling effect but clothes stuck to my skin. Ice wrapped in a towel? Fantastic! But I’d tend to drip across work orders, blueprints and such. Next the family doctor who made, even with my limited dermatological knowledge, a misdiagnosis. Finally, a true professional, identified by her age and demeanor – past retirement and I work because I can still work.
Past diagnoses tossed aside, adjacent issues dismissed, she prods me to discovery. Yes, it must have been the garden. The only constant in a variable schedule, weeded casually many times a month. Doctor MacKay quickly determines the itching is driving me crazy. Exhibit A: Man goes to doctor without parental bidding.
A steroidal cream prescribed, purchased, and applied, my symptoms are on the wane. The cream? Manufactured in the Bronx by a multi-national corporation, Perrigo (not the flooring company). A most interesting company with its roots in simple dry and wet goods capitalism.
In 1887 Luther Perrigo, the proprietor of a general store and apple-drying business, had the idea to package and distribute patented medicines and household items for country stores. Located in Allegan, Michigan, the L. Perrigo Company enjoyed steady growth and, by the early 1920s, Perrigo was exceeding the needs of its rural store customers throughout the Midwest.
Along the way, the company began leveraging the “private label” concept as a way to enhance customer loyalty. For no additional cost, Perrigo offered to imprint the individual store’s name on the labels of epsom salts, sweet oil, bay rum and dozens of other wet and dry goods stocked in general stores. Perrigo History
Through a summer haze of bug bites, various skin infections and rashes, even intermittent sun poisoning despite the best efforts of La Roche-Posay, we’ve again dropped into the lap of another week. Without a story. But we are close. Like this week, stringing newly acquired ½ and ¼ size fiddles. The bench is littered with wrappings from D’Addario, their Helicore strings. Nearly every fiddle refurbishment gets Helicores.
While competitors put “student quality” strings on their fiddles, Helicores have proven, again and again, to product better tones, making my efforts so much more satisfying. The thrilling grin of a teacher giving feedback on a fiddle unplayed for decades, the student who buys or borrows the instrument, even myself, largely untrained.
Constant improvement, meticulous attention to quality, a true value despite their cost. It’s D’Addario for me. Mandolin, guitar, violin, even Pete’s bouzouki wears D’Addario.
Helicore violin strings are crafted with a multi-stranded steel core, resulting in optimal playability while producing a clear, warm tone. The smaller string diameter provides quick bow response. Premium quality materials combined with skilled workmanship produces strings known for excellent pitch stability and longevity. D’Addario
Just a teaspoon of sugar helps the medicine go down ~ ~ Sometimes it is just a pinch of this or a dash of that which makes all the difference. My world-famous griddlecakes? A single drop of almond extract per batter batch. A pot of hot chocolate? A drop of vanilla.
That is nearly the limit and extent of my extracts knowledge. There was a third box of Schilling extract up in the cabinet corner, saved from great-grandmothers’ kitchen. Never opened, never used. The box dated 1976, our Bicentennial.
I learn extract of peppermint is preferred by many professionals to resolve topical skin issues, especially near and in the mouth! Even better, it is not a homeopathic cure, but real world medicine. A quick web search reveals an exhausting list of ailments and issues helped by mint oils. I find mint tea the perfect digestif after gastronomic overindulgence. Especially following a triple helping of my galaxy-famous gluten-and-egg-free griddlecakes!
A. Schilling & Company was an American foodstuffs company founded in San Francisco, California, in 1881 by August Schilling and George F. Volkmann, a pair 27 year-old Bremen, Germany emigres. It dealt in coffee, tea, baking powder, extracts, and spices and was acquired by McCormick & Company in 1946 and merged into its business as its Western Division. McCormick continued to use the Schilling name until the 1990s, with the last product containers marked as Schilling produced in 2002. – wiki
Old fiddlers … young fiddlers … everything in between. Add a gazillion guitars and banjos, a heap o’ mandolins, a few upright basses and dobros. Let’em loose within a shaded grove up the hill from the Main Stage. That’s the Old Fiddlers’ Picnic. Now in its 89th year, it was old even when my folks were courting teenagers from a nearby mill town.
Aside from the stage, no one is in charge. No one is there to drink or fight. There are no genre turf wars. Just a peaceful gathering of people without anything to prove. Playing for fun, sharing their gifts, enjoying the company of old friends.
Because Sunday’s Picnic was Saturday’s rain date, several acts cancelled. Naturally I was roped into performing. With only Hugh’s mandolin and nothing planned, it was the perfect opportunity to fail spectacularly. Hugh’s Collings MT2 is *showing its age* (stage whisper). The frets are getting low, and while she sings a tune better than most, it takes a lot of effort to put her in the mood.
Fortunately I ran into Glenn McNemar of Kennet Square. Glenn both maintains the local mandolarium while making mandolins full-time, and brought a fresh build with him. Not six weeks old, proud of fret, soft in demeanor but unconsciously vivacious, his mandolin was the star of my time slot.
Five hours of playing, bug bitten, dehydrated, sore, hungry, I again enjoy one of the finest small music festivals in America. Just like the one next weekend in a county park near you.
Bluegrass music is a form of American roots music, and a related genre of country music. Influenced by the music of Appalachia, bluegrass has mixed roots in Irish, Scottish and English traditional music, and was also later influenced by the music of African-Americans through incorporation of jazz elements. – wiki
Originally sold only within dermatologist and plastic surgeon’s offices, the best sunscreens in the world went retail ten years ago. L’Oréal USA does not advertise La Roche-Posay. High consumer report ratings and doctor recommendations have helped establish favorable market share. But possibly the most important factor in this product line’s success? Quality.
After “borrowing” a tube of La Roche Posay from a client while in the field, I note its comfort and protection. After days of use, my usual daily burn is absent. Once discovered, I became a quick convert.
We asked Mary, customer service majordomo and chief marketing strategist at L’Oréal USA, “What is the company known for?” (paraphrased) Quality. R&D. We take pride in the research and development we put into all of our products. Diversity of product. We’re the largest cosmetic company in world, and we make a product for all price points. From personal experience, I’ve noted economy sunscreen stings, even causing a rash. The cost of quality? I don’t notice it.
Mary leaks a secret. Calls to customer care are roughly split, 50/50. Women and men both want to care for their skin. Guess men like product as much as women. 🙂
Bang bang, you’re dead.
Brush your teeth and go to bed.
Children’s songs of folklore try to instill regular habits. Giving thanks before meals. The avoidance of blinding a friend in game. Within fifty variations among a dozen generations, this camp song has reenforced, “Brush yer teeth.” The cost of underbrushing. Perils of over-brushing.
Good habits as kids carry over to good habits as adults. Same for product. Within the dental products aisle of our local market stretch options so vast one may forget that for which they came, blinded by the glamour of choice.
Artisanal, homeopathic, organic, PETA-approved … some linger in this aisle, confused, dreamy, excited, like a cat in a strange garret. Sexual delights anticipated, amplified by their newly pearlescent teeth and licorice anisette breath. Blind to marketing gimmicks, they buy the sizzle, brushing with false hope. “Grandma’s Special Recipe” toothpaste at three times the price but without the drop of turpentine she concealed as her secret ingredient.
Back to basic. Back to trust every time for me. Crest as a kid, Crest now. The name ‘Crest‘ means “Research. Development. Testing. Quality.” Not a garage concoction tubed, boxed, and sold out of a station wagon by Felix and his cousin, but a real product developed by professionals, extensively tested, with impeccable quality control.
Sometimes I’ll buy Colgate. Same trust. Do I lean towards one? Sure, but either is fine. In all my decades as a shopper, I’ve only bought a different paste once. It’s still in its box in the cellar, half full, the properties unneeded.
Don’t forget to floss.
Most domestic consumption Crest is made in Greensboro, North Carolina. My last tube of Colgate was made in Morristown Tennessee. Occasionally you’ll get a tube of Crest manufactured in Nuacalpan, Mexico, differentiated by a foil seal beneath the cap. Colgate also has manufacturing in Mexico. Both manufacturers sell primarily domestic production within the ‘States.
Based on the classic Applegate-Fairbairn fixed knife, the Covert is a 3/4 scale, pocket clip version of the Gerber original Applegate-Fairbairn Combat Folder. Gerber
When my niece says, “Why do you always carry a knife”?, she forgets she’s never asked, “Why don’t you have your knife?”. As the most important invention ever developed (along with its derivatives), everyday living would be far different without the sharpened blade. Walking down your steps (the saw and lathe) to breakfast cereal (scythe) in your stone house (the chisel), a free American (the sword) may think little of the knife’s importance.
Several times a day as a tradesperson I reach for my Gerber to resolve an issue. Expand my view. Nudge or persuade the reluctant in a manner my finger cannot. Whether tight quarters or dangerously jagged obstructions, the Gerber has a way of poking its business end into the issue, demanding quarter. Recalcitrant material usually gives way. Uncle!
It is the perfect tool. And the perfect gift.
There’s always a ⅜” x 8″ Craftsman slotted screwdriver and Estwing hammer should more persuasion be wanted …
Everywhere I go, my Nalgene is in tow. Fast rotation in the ‘fridge, or tepid tap, either does what the body cannot: add water to the machine. With current mid-summer weather, it is more important than ever to replenish this life-giving juice and basis of all chemical reaction in the body, water.
30OZ N-GEN With three bottles in use, I’m usually well fixed. But summer gift-giving approaches. What to present a 14-year-old man-boy on his birthday? Something cool and electronic? An airplane model? Swatch watch? My call goes into the void, and echoes back, “An American-made water bottle”. Nalgene, naturally.
Like potato chips, batting practice, or lýtkový řízek, I cannot stop at one. I buy five. Still free deliver on any order over $10. For these gifts, a thin stack of currency is traded.
At unwrapping, I learn my nephew recently acquired a new water bottle, but six is better! With five from which to choose, he favors a match to his Swatch (Accessorizing already? No wonder the chicks dig him. Smart lad.) With plenty to share, his sister and cousins are ecstatic. The cost of teaching generosity? Priceless.
Nalgene. Made in the USA, stylish, sleek, and affordable.
THERMO FISHER SCIENTIFIC
A FAMOUS WRITER ONCE told me, “You always want to have a couple of stories in your back pocket. You don’t want to be out with your buddies, everyone savoring their own delicious tale, and come up empty”. Same goes true for money. This weekend, however, I came up blank. Pocket lint. 88˚ and triple-digit humidity boils the brain. Creative juices squeezed out, my skull resembles an original Denis Papin steam digester, c. 1679.
When it is time to cool off, to bring about brain freeze, most iced drinks can satisfy. Though isn’t life about enhancements. Ice cream, please. If we are going to consume sugar calories, why not make it the best ice cream this side of the Monongahela River! To the source we travel. With carriage and four-in-hand, back in time we clatter, through Delaware’s Arc to the 1700s farm of the Mitchell family.
With milk-fat levels approaching my cholesterol numbers, this is real ice cream. It sits upon the tongue, infusing smiles and euphoria. Where kids can be kids, clocks slow, and the bluegrass circle plays on. Under the big oak tree, mature even in colonial times. We eat our treasure, cows looking on. Children’s laughter sets the beat, as faithful renditions of Doc Watson’s honest clarity measure time.
Farm fresh ice cream ~ Worth the trip!
From far back, I’ve heard the brand Bradford White repeated daily. Plumbing distributor purchases. Installations. Pre-internet, the boss tracking down warranty information. Visiting BWC’s distribution warehouse.
Home Center mania pushed into the contractor supply business, selling cheaper and more expensive water heaters. No qualifications required to buy, install or repair. What could possibly go wrong? Ask yourself that the next time you hear of a residence completely obliterated in a gas explosion.
It is Bradford White for me. Manufactured with superior components. The best controls in the industry with readily available parts. All-brass drain valves. Sturdy packaging. Integrated piezo igniters, which means no more matches. Fantastic performance, strong warranties, and world-class support.
Bradford White makes products for the professional. You won’t find our water heaters, boilers or tanks at the local retail center where unsafe, corner-cutting installations frequently occur to save a few dollars. – BWC
Headquartered up the road, Pennsylvania is proud to host Bradford White‘s corporate offices in Ambler. Manufactured in our heartland, Middleville Michigan produces the final product. Excellent distribution. Any size, any feature, it is only hours or perhaps a day or two away. Professional engineering and manufacturing for the plumbing professional.
Almost three decades ago this young pup was called upon to clean some windows. An idea blossomed to do my cleaning the way professionals do theirs – with professional-quality implements and techniques. Storefront windows are large expanses of glass. A large squeegee was wanted.
Within a dedicated commercial cleaning supplies company, choices were examined. Brass components seemed best. I chose an 18″ model which looked fully serviceable. Sleek, elegant, well-balanced. Excellent duty this squeegee did. After proper scrubbing a streak-free glass surface was obtained.
Eventually I left the storefront. The squeegee tagged along, to be rediscovered years later. A glass shower enclosure wanted a professionally cleaned look. The squeegee worked before, so I tried it again. Time had not been kind to the rubber insert. Back to the same supply company, where they sold insert by the foot.
Not knowing any better, I took what they sold. Which was ill-fitting, poorly formulated, immediately left streaks, and quickly began leaving black smudges. Lets be clear. The OEM insert lasted years of light use and performed perfectly. The replacement never gave satisfaction. Research was in order.
Originally purchased was the Cadillac of squeegees, an Ettore, produced by the leader in such products. An American Dream story of manufacturing. Immigrant has invention then is spurned by manufacturers and vendors. Immigrant markets invention, becomes successful, dominates the market long after patent runs out. Initially balance and design won converts. But the streak-free glass … what was that about? The secret rubber formula of the squeegee insert!
Back to OEM I go. For about the SAME cost as a cheap import squeegee insert, I buy a genuine Ettore insert. My 18″ Ettore is back to full function. A perfect product.
Buy a flute and you own a flute. Buy a professional squeegee and you’re a professional window washer. Abraham Lincoln, 1853
Rehabbing old properties sounds glamorous but it’s dirty business. Smacking everything apart and returning it to rights makes of mess of clothes and boots. Clothes go into the Maytag. The boots? Special care is required. Like we learn in the Army, you gotta take care of your feet. That means taking care of your boots. When the dust settles, I return my boots to factory specification. A good cleaning, then boot oil.
For cleaning, I continue a family tradition, trusting the same company my great-grandfather trusted with his farrier business. Since 1895, the Fiebing Company has been manufacturing high quality Horse Care, Shoe Care and Leather Care products in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. – Fiebing
First a strong hose to remove mud and concrete dust, blood and sweat. An old kitchen pad rubbed about in dampened Fiebing’s Saddle Soap gives me a hearty lather for sturdy scrubbing. After a good rinse and a day for the leather to dry, its time to hydrate.
Red Wing Boot Oil came with the Red Wing boots. It sat for years as earlier boots crumbled into tatters. Finally Redfern explained to me in simple terms I could remember. “You’ve got to keep the leather oiled”. My current #1 pair of Red Wings are over a decade old, factory-resoled once. The #2 pair, still almost dressy, six months.
Alternate days gets alternate boots. They both get the same care. Keep’em clean with soap and water, and when the dirt becomes embedded, Fiebing’s Saddle Soap then a good boot oil.
I’ll be back – With hopeful yet prophetic words I grudgingly exit the best taco joint west of the Mississippi almost three years ago. But back I am! Coming off weeks of backcountry camping in Yellowstone National Park, this gem was the stuff of daily cravings. Homeward bound, Más Taco is my first destination over Beartooth Pass within tiny Red Lodge, Montana. The restaurant is just as I left it.
Famous for having the finest chow outside Yellowstone Northeast Entrance miles away, Mike has not let fortune go to his head. His passion is still fly fishing. Off-river, Más Taco gets his full attention. Many of the same people help Mike turn out plate after plate of 100% fresh ingredients blended into a perfect meal. Always an artful presentation. And chaos? Seven people working full bore in a galley kitchen. It was like my recent trip under polar ice aboard Nautilus (upcoming article, of course). Except for plenty of fresh air and sunshine. On a plate. Nature at its finest.
Four harsh Pennsylvania winters have come and gone. My truck tires started to feel like I would after buried in ice and snow several months a year. Stiff & brittle. OEM tires on American trucks are not performance tires, they’re work tires. And work they did, perfectly, for four years and 50,000 miles.
I’d been researching tires for the past 18 months. With 5/16″ remaining tread and even wear, my rubber is fine on dry pavement. But the desert deluge and spring snowstorm? Anything can be encountered within our duties maintaining this American products online resource.
Narrowing the field is easier than expected. Noise and traction ratings were studied. Forums consulted. Experts queried. My truck’s OEM tire, General Tire’s Grabber HTS, is better than ever. General manufactures worldwide but my Grabbers are domestic production, Mount Vernon, Illinois. There’s even a new Grabber HTS60 manufactured in Sumter, South Carolina.
We went with OEM. Our local Continental dealer gave us great pricing on a new set, mounted and balanced. Immediately thereafter we embarked on a 6,000 mile adventure. Two-lane highways preferred. Through New Mexico deserts, a Wyoming snow and ice storm, and wind-swept plains of Montana and South Dakota. Perfect traction and quiet. Six Thumbs Up experience!
Dave Holland said, “Go ahead and fish in the (Yellowstone) River”. Fishing permit lacking. His parcel abutted the old Gardiner / Mammoth pump house, he owned the pump house, and the pump house deed ran to the middle of the river. Fish & Game could pound sand, he declared. Sounds like he was looking for a showdown. Which never happened.
Dave is hooking another worm with Curt. Time moves forward. Again I find myself along the 45th Parallel, at Mammoth Hot Springs campground. Better equipped, this time. Spoiled, even.
Spoiled with the best headlamp in the world, the Surefire variable output LED. Guaranteed forever, practically indestructible. With a bulb life of several generations, this fine bit of engineering and craftsmanship has never failed.
Elk give me more room. Coyotes run from Man With Third Eye Glowing. A vintage copy of Dostoyevsky can be enjoyed long after ‘quiet time’ is enacted. A spattering of rain, wind in the trees, the distant Gardner River, and my reliable Surefire.
It all started in March while visiting Wintergrass, the Wilmington Delaware Bluegrass Festival. A fella had a mandolin of pure line. Shapely neck and smooth body. Her voice! Golden, well articulated, clear, and rich. Sharp when required. Clearly an effort from one of the best finishing schools!
Off we went to see where she was born, meet her parents. The York Pennsylvania studio of Bluett Brothers Violins. Chris Bluett (blu•ETTE) proudly shows me around his latest, a clean F-body mandolin with intricate headstock, the violin in progress, a few guitars from earlier years there for a visit.
Chris has been making instruments his entire adult life. It takes more than skill and an understanding supportive wife. It takes dedication and respect for the craft. Born into every instrument. A tradition he proudly supports through an active apprentice program. Chris Bluett, carrying the torch.
While visiting York Pennsylvania luthier Chris Bluett (blu•ETTE), a gent comes into the luthiery with a violin in a paper bag. For sale. Chris makes and sells violins but does not buy unless made by him. The B-Team steps forward. I offer a slim stack of dollars for the shabby fiddle, and walk away a hopeful man.
Tight unblemished top grain, casual adherence to scroll symmetry above the box, and matching pegs caught my eye. As I clamp down on refurbishment, it got better and better. Decades of grime gently removed, Behlen hide glue restoring separated back and top, this gem exposed promising pedigree. Labeled without origin, the top was definitely a better tonewood.
Over a century ago with excellent materials, a craftsperson put this violin together with attention where it matters. Ready again for strings, I consult the foremost authority. With D’Addario Orchestral Strings CSR on speed dial, we come to the same conclusion. Premium strings for this promising centenarian.
D’Addario Kaplan strings are selected. They feel good in the hand, as I string the violin. Almost silky, with superior peg end windings. Stretching “break-in” was minimal. The tone? Phenomenal! After Steve Fields gets used to the slightly different scale length of my set-up, his smile is never far as he runs through his favorites. If I ever get this violin back from him, I may remove the D’Addario Kaplan Vivo set and try the D’Addario Kaplan Amo set. Can’t wait!
A gift received four years ago sat unused for months. Need finally arose over a bracing chapped winter. This balm was found to be superior. An all-natural salve with pleasant wintergreen finish restored what nature took.
Before the tin was reduced to a few smears of Badger Balm along the bottom, my restored hands had intersourced * a vendor with reasonable shipping fees. I’m BACK IN THE BALM again!
That split nail growing from a perpetually cracked cuticle? Finally, some relief after a couple months of consistent application. Sub-epidermal exposure through fingertip calluses? Stick with Badger Balm, and relief will come. A must have through the winter and all year around!
Bill, what makes it so good? Our philosophy flows from the ground up. We believe in using botanical ingredients that are grown in healthy soil and processed simply without the use of chemicals. Ingredients like these are filled with life force. They make for better products, for healthier people, and for a healthier planet. – Badger Bill Whyte, CEO & Head Badger
Weekly shopping would not be complete without a stop at our local Trader Joe’s. Once a novelty, this grocery store chain has become a must-visit for specifics. Why? As with our Coffee Filter article, Price, quality, and consistency … When something works, why look for anything better?
Joe’s navel oranges. Consistent size, fresh and juicy, and a good price. The four-pound bag is $4 on the East Coast but $3 in Phoenix … guess they are coming from California this time of year.
The serving size is misleading, though. One orange? Really?
Free Offer: When Trader Joe’s drops the $3.99 and prices bagged oranges on the even dollar, we’ll give them a banner ad for a year!
La sécurité n’est pas un accident.
I gear up for another season with that famous French proverb ringing in my ears. Safety is not an accident. Eye protection? Check! Uxex for me. Ears? Hoppes plugs are always within reach and used, even if drilling only one or two holes in concrete. Lungs? As they say, when you can’t breathe, nothing else matters.
After several apprentice seasons struggling with disposal breathing masks, I took advice from safety experts at Graingers. North/Honeywell or 3M are the usual offerings when safety is your top concern. Decades later, I have and use both brands. Honeywell for light dust and all day comfort, and the 3M “half-mask” for more involved irritants.
The 3M™ Half Facepiece Reusable Respirator 6000 Series. Interchangeable cartridges for protection within different contaminants. While this unit will not provide oxygen, with the right cartridges, muriatic acid can be handled safely in a well-ventilated area. With the pictured P100 Particulate Filters, I’m protected against anything the typical construction site stirs up.
Healthy body, healthy mind, restful sleep.
Decades ago while hand-threading five stories of 1″ steel pipe, a gas company employee shared a great product with me. His fancy blue pipe dope to apply to pipe threads before screwing everything together. Back in those days, I used grey pipe dope, or more often, white dope with teflon. The blue stuff? An expensive specialty item.
That gas company guy said they used only the blue stuff. It was the best. Pipes never leaked. You did not have to tighten pipe like Hercules to get a good seal. After my gifted can was empty, I bought another. Two decades later I still buy the same pipe dope, Oatey MEGALOC. Sometimes an even stronger product, Oatey Block, for larger or irregular pipe as well as specialty applications. Made in the USA for professional plumbers worldwide.
MADE IN USA / HECHO EN EE.UU.
Even if you are not a professional, just a guy who knows a lot about pipes, do yourself a favor. Get an edge on every project. The upper hand on potential issues. Oatey MEGALOC and BLOCK, their Blue Wonders.
MEGALOC cleans up with water. BLOCK requires isopropyl alcohol.