Full of Compressed Air

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Question: What do you feel when you come across a piece of machinery that no longer works? Do you feel sadness that it’s not able to fulfill its potential? Confusion as to why it isn’t working as it should? Anger that some kind of engineering injustice is being inflicted upon you, it, and the world? Joy that this is proof that machines will not rise up and challenge humanity for supremacy? Or nothing? Maybe you feel nothing because it’s just a machine and this is kind of stupid and there are more important things in the world.

I think most people probably go with “nothing,” because they are normal, well-adjusted people with better things to spend their time thinking about. Not me, though. I feel compelled. Compelled to see the machine returned back to its rightful working state.

And that’s why I spent too much time and too much money resurrecting an old air compressor.

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Plane Stupid

One of the things I like about woodworking is that it requires thinking and planning ahead. I spend as much time, if not more time, thinking about a project than I spend in the shop working on it. How am I going to make that cut? In what order should I do these steps? It forces me to slow down and be patient, two of my weaker qualities.

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From the Dog House to the Woodshed

This past summer, my wife and I realized that with our daughter heading to college, we no longer needed to be in the large suburban house we had been renting since selling our Capitol Hill house a few years before. Concern for commutes (thanks remote work!) and school districts were replaced by a desire for nature and a different kind of space. So, we did some searching and found a lovely house on 12 acres about 40 miles west of D.C. It’s far enough to be away from the madness, but close enough that we can come in when necessary.

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