It’s almost time to load the record player, requested vinyl, and oversize speakers into the little red car. Woodbridge is calling, three hours away, and the residents at the retirement home are ready to party. It’s Friday, man! I wonder if that lady will take me up on that opera backing track, and grace us with a few notes.
But first, a quick blog. You know the drill!
Try again, Buddy!
Speaking of drills, the yellow and black one whirred. The screws backed off. The dust was brushed aside. I almost turned into the Hulk. Now the letters were too high. There was no room for the apostrophe.
Letters have been uncooperative this week. Sometimes they jump on the page in a brilliant parade. But this time around…nope. The compositions have resembled the unfortunate skunk I saw on this morning’s jog. (Flat and stinky.) I felt bad for the little buddy. I wanted to kick the letters. Come ON, guys!
And writing difficulties aside, the actual carving of them into wood was proving tricky. The goal was to make a sign for a buddy’s art booth. She’s like an adopted aunt, and here I was to do the nephew thing. All it had to say was
DEE’S DESIGNS
That apostrophe kept throwing the spacing off. The router stencil needed some mods. I messed it up every way possible. That does have the advantage of leaving the Right Way at the bottom of the empty box, easy to spy when all other methods have been used. Everyone has a creative process, and I know when mine has missed the mark, no matter how much I squint my eyes and see if the finished product is passable.
Finally, the seventh time was the charm. The piece sat still. The router bit. Ah YES! The lights of the shop burned through the darkness, and finally, it worked. Well, I mean, I like it. I hope she does, too. (You should see my ashtrays.)
While missing the mark the first six times was discouraging, I dig the fact that there’s a mark in the first place. Where would we be if we didn’t have an up and a down, a quality and a “man, burn that scrap.” I feel that Mr. Plato had something to say about this.
Neon Lighthouses
Not only was the routing and writing of words challenging this week, but so was the speaking of them. In this case, they were too many, and of an inferior quality…a bag of generic ginger snaps. Ew.
What could we be if we really tried? I’m curious about this idea.
If party games came true, and you could turn into an inanimate object of your choosing…perhaps a kite is overrated. There’s no wind, too much wind, lightning, Ben Franklin, kids dragging your nose along the ground after failure to launch, tails to be tied on…
A lighthouse might be the ticket. One could blaze brilliantly along a dark and stormy coast, guiding in hapless sailors and saving many a life.
A bright beacon would be necessary for success. Something to burn brilliant and pure.
This is something I’d like to strive for. It seems that our words might be this light. Sloppy, lazy, undisciplined ones…maybe they’re like tacky neon when what’s required is that fierce limelight. I’ve been a walking pool hall with the amount of neon this week. So, pour the coffee, up the game, and let’s make this happen, folks! How nice we get another Friday to give it a shot. Now, I’m off to spin some records.
“One should live life like a very hot fire, and leave nothing behind but white ash.”
Keep shining!
Josh