Fair Warning.

A Tylenol driven download is imminent and incoming.

Nov 30, 2025

Dear Good Hours.

I did a thing… well I’ve done a few things over the last two months. Also. As I’m digging in I realize this is turning into a story, hold on for that or TL:DR.

Familiar and long drives really only cause me trouble. If the drive is unfamiliar, I will connect my phone to the radio so I can hear the GPS instructions. As long as my phone is connected I’ll listen to a playlist on random or an audiobook or podcast, like a real human might choose to do.

If my drive is short, just around town, I will not even bother turning the radio on. There are few things more jarring to my peace than starting the car with a surprise radio blaring. Sets me off for hours. But short, in town trips and navigating lights, pedestrians and traffic occupy enough of my awareness I don’t get in trouble.

But when I have a longish drive, and I know the route well, then my mind starts to wander and I get ideas. More on the idea in a minute, but here’s what I think the difference is. Familiarity.

If I have a podcast, audiobook, or randomized playlist rolling out of the speakers then my mind is at least mostly, actively engaged with the material. If I am rolling without that then there is one of two things. Either the radio is off, or I am listening to one of six CD’s in the changer. Yes my car is old enough to have a CD changer.

Radio off = thinking about stuff. I think everyone can get that. But CD’s on = why still thinking. Because for most of the last decade I’ve mostly had the same 6 CD’s loaded in the same places. Letting them just roll through might as well be a meditative mantra I know them all so well. What are they?

Pink Floyd Box Set Promotional Disk (Explanation: This was bought from a Used CD stack years ago, clearly labeled “Not For Resale” It contains one song from each Floyd studio album from Piper to Thunder. It’s pretty great)
Metallica S&M disk 1
Metallica S&M disk 2
Stevie Ray Vaughn Greatest Hits (the latest change around 4+ years ago, this slot used to be Prince: Piano and a Microphone)
Bohemian Rhapsody: The Soundtrack
Nathaniel Rateliff & The Night Sweats (self titled album)

There it is… a deep look inside my brain. Might as well pull down my pants and hand out a measuring tape too.

The trouble is, my mind knows these core albums, and honestly their line up so well, it can wander AND engage with them at the same time. And here’s where I get in trouble.

I have thoughts. I make plans. Most of the time they don’t happen. This time it did.

Now I explain the picture above. I get the chance to demonstrate hand tool woodworking a few times a year if I’m lucky. It’s a lot of work, but I enjoy doing it and after years of doing Viking Age and Medieval presentations and demonstrations, it’s more than a little baked into me.

This pic above was this year’s Forest To Furniture presentation, an annual fall event held at the Castlerock Museum of Arms and Armor in Alma WI. A little over an hour drive for me. Just long enough for me to get in trouble.

I’ve demoed a lot of things at this event over the years. The most high pressure year was finishing a full sized six-board chest in a day. I made it, but just barely and I was so gassed after. After that I decided to focus on another “I can make it in a day” projects, just something less physical.

I designed a little dovetail box that could be built from a single 1”x 6”x 8’ board. The fun conceit is I take one loose measurement at the start, and then I size all the following parts off the first. One board, one measurement, one box.

Typical attendees come in a few flavors. All the rest to one side, my favorite flavor is the older man who showed up, not to watch me demo, but to talk to me (and I hope all of us) about his shop, the things he builds and the tools he uses. I interact with these fellas one of two ways. If he’s respectful and seems to just need to share something he deeply cares about, but no one else in his life cares, or he needs some saw dust kinship to share. I listen and respond and give resources and actually care.

I’m not gonna lie. If they show up to brag about their perfect shop and great tools and massive experience and secret techniques and for certain micro-penis (challenge to future me: measuring the meat-slab has come up twice so far this post, let’s see if I can hit the mark in the closing words)

I had one of the most belligerent motherfuckers ever this year. (I’m gonna call him BMF from here on out.) I was speaking to another gentleman about starting woodworking. He was homeschooling his children and was stretching out for a creative, hands-on-make-something thing to add to the curriculum. The BMF was watching things from the side of the bench, we’d already had an interaction or two.

Talking to the home school dude, I mentioned Norm Abrahms.

“Norm Abrahms is an asshole!” BMF said in a loud, declarative sentence that made me shake my head like I just came up from underwater and look right at him.

He shifted from my gaze and went on to explain. “He’d always cut these perfect dovetails on that weird jig thing then he’d glue them up clean and look at the camera and say ‘I’m just gonna shoot one brad down through this joint to lock it in place.’ And all I can think is awe you piece of shit!”

I was take aback by all the feelings. It was a lot.

I spoke about how sometimes I will do the same and drive a finish nail down through the top and bottom of a dovetail joint, especially for a drawer, because then I can remove the clamps I have on and move on to the next glue up. He, at least, considered this thoughtfully, and moved away to abuse another demonstrator.

As I watched him walk away, I could only think “Fuck you man.”

When the time was right for assembly, I drilled and drove some BBQ skewers I’d brought with through each of the corners. Top and bottom. flush cut and paired even to the surface, everything finish sanded with sanding sponges, and then I stopped working and went just to visiting, There was only 30-45 minutes left before the museum and the demo closed anyway.

The pic above was taken by the museum’s manager just after this interaction. I am already BBQ skewer in hand!

This is that box after I brought it home and added a circumferential walnut inlay and some mitered maple skirt strips. I gave this box to the person who took my call at the hospital so I could participate in the demo.

Towards the end of the demo time BMF showed up at my bench again.

“I finished it.” I said a little over proud, “I Norm Abrahm’s style pinned all four corners with these BBQ skewers and cleaned her up. This box is done.”

“You did that all…” he stammered, “Wait - how much of that did you have done before you showed up today?”

“None of it.” I said and motioned to the couple full boards I had leaning against the castle. “I didn’t know how busy it would be or how much I’d get done so I bought just raw boards and banged this guy out, Just For You.”

He switched his look from the box to me and back again several times.

“BWAHHH!” he emoted, loud and dismissive, including the side to side hand wave, basically swiping left on me and my whole shit.

Then he marched away into the thinning crowd.

I’ve rarely been so pleased with myself.

Thanks for reading My Love Letter to Good Hours! This post is public so feel free to share it.

After I had clean up and dinner at a local restaurant with the other demonstrator’s before heading home.

Same drive home. Same sound track on the radio. Head full of tired and empty memories from the day, unfortunately and satisfactorily focused on the interactions I had with BMF.

And there was the birthplace for a bad idea.

Those thoughts connected with a recent thought about the lost art of ‘zines. Naomi and I were up around the Twin Cities, and I was amazed to stop by a big comic book store and find ‘zines by the door for give away. Back in my heyday, ‘zine’s were either the shit or they were just shit but they were great either way.

“I’m gonna build another box, the same as almost every demo box I’ve done. I’m gonna document the shit out of it and write it up just like a ‘zine.” I decided. “I wanna make a woodworking ‘zine.”

I did that.

I’ve finished the first draft and I’ve started to author edit the second draft. As it stands tonight I managed to pound out 16,613 words about building a box. Sounds riveting right? But wait.

My wife and I have had some debate about the title. SHe’s worried about the connections with the term Manifesto, but honestly, reading it, that’s the closest “feel” to what I’ve produced.

I’m not often the biggest fan of my own work. It’s probably why I don’t bother to edit myself much here, but reading from outside myself, I can’t think of many books about woodworking that have ever read like this before. The open book into my process, planning and things I’ve learned by fucking up. It’s too unique to just bury.

I actually started the post tonight to write about this lady, a variation on the box, only with a “peasant” carved stick and panel lid added. I guess I’ll have to write about her next time.

She’s for sale BTW. $400 and I ship on my dime.

My Love Letter to Good Hours

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