Well, I got my first commission, sort of.  I mean I was asked to make something for free.  A friend wanted something that would cover an outlet in their kitchen.  They used the outlet to plug in a number of devices like cell phones and a clock radio.  They wanted a box that would allow the cords to come out and they needed to be able to remove the box from time to time.  And….they wanted it to match their existing cabinets.

This was great since I have never made anything this small.  I have spent my time making large cabinets for computers and tv’s.  I also have some great curly maple sitting in my shop begging to become jewelry boxes, so this was a chance to practice.  I recently took the plunge and bought a moving fillister from Lee Valley.  I got a discount from being at the Woodworking in America conference.   I have a Record Rapier plow plane which works great, so the moving fillister was the next big thing.  With these two planes I was able to plow the groove for the top panel to sit in and I used the moving fillister to raise the panel. 

 

The first task was to decide on the thickness of the parts.   I decided to try and get close to ¼ inch in thickness as I thought anything thicker would make the box to heavy looking.  Since the thickness was going to be ¼ inch, I decided dovetails would not be the thing to do.  While writing that sentence, I am thinking I could have done dovetails couldn’t I???  Well, anyway, I did mitre joints, on the table saw.  I wanted to clean them up on my shooting board but the mitre attachment is not right to hold the work in place.  Chris suggested a Donkey’s Ear, I heard Donkey’s Ass, and took it as a reference to my work…Well I got straighten out and will make one soon. 

 

Anyway, here is a picture of the box.  I left the bottom of the box open; see pic below.  I say bottom when looking at the box mounted on the wall.  Not sure if “bottom” is the correct term for this part.  Sorry to confuse.  It is one side of the piece that is a different width.  Now the electric cords can pass through the box onto the counter.  I used a French Cleat to hang the box so it can be removed easily.  I didn’t spline the mitres, just glue.  I did reinforce them with a very small glue block however they were surprisingly strong with just glue. 

 

One last thing.  I proudly gave the box to my friend who seemed impressed.  He had it with him the next day at work.  Yup, I made it a hair to small, so I quickly made another.

 

- John

Thomas Lie-Nielsen sidled up to me with a drink in his hand, a sportscoat on his back and a sly look across his face.

He opened his green jacket to reveal… a stick.

I repressed my urge to pluck it from his jacket because I stank like a monkey’s armpit after hauling four workbenches all over the campus of Berea College for our Woodworking in America conference.

But Thomas (who raises horses and must be accustomed to large, malodorous hairy things) nodded that it was OK for me to grab the stick. I did. Then I squealed like a little girl.

It was a brass Warrington hammer and looked just like my favorite hammer of all time, the little guy shown at the top of this blog entry. I use the round end of this hammer for adjusting all my planes. A few subtle hammer taps adjust the lateral position of my iron with more accuracy than any lateral-adjust mechanism.

I’ll also use the round end to advance the irons of my planes that don't have mechanical adjusters. Oh, and I drive small pins with this end, too.

The flat end, called the “cross pane,” is ideal for starting nails. You pinch the nail with your fingers and use the cross pane to sneak through your fingertips to strike the nail’s head. Very handy.

There are probably 100 other uses for this little hammer because I take it with me whenever I travel with my tools.

So here’s the news: Lie-Nielsen Toolworks is going to begin making this hammer in both steel and brass. I don’t have information on pricing or availability, but who cares? I’m getting a set (or two) the minute they come out.

You see, I have a hammer problem. I probably have 20 or more of them, all different. Most of them came into my hands when I wrote about hammers for Woodworking Magazine a few years back, but for some reason I can’t seem to get rid of them.

But the Warrington’s size and weight have made it my favorite shop hammer (followed quickly by my 16-ounce Maydole hammer). And soon – thanks to Lie-Nielsen – you are going to be able to see if you agree with my assessment.

— Christopher Schwarz

All I'm saying about this photo is that I'm glad it's not scratch 'n' sniff.

This is a picture that my wife told me to get or not come home! Nice to have that kind of support. I don’t know how the kids would feel about her statement since my youngest is the only one that has ever said “no mommy, don’t kick daddy out!” Why tempt fate? So I made sure I got the photo.

This picture is of the second night at the Woodworking in America conference. I was un-stressing from the day. My first assignment was to introduce Mr. Michael Dunbar. Yes, that Mr. Dunbar. A person of legend whom I have never met. I hope I didn’t mess it up. On Sunday, I was slotted to introduce Mr. Frank Klausz another legend I have never met. After hearing him answer a question with “because that is stupid!” I was glad I called him "Mr." Klausz.

One of the great benefits of being Chris’s apprentice is being able to help out and go to these events. WIA was spot-on fantastic. It was hard to pick which seminar to go to. On day two, I was privileged to introduce Brian Boggs. Wow!  I had no idea of how much there is know about wood. I sat in awe as he explained things about wood that I had never heard before.  Hearing the meticulous way he monitors wood moisture and applies hide glue twice, it is no wonder his chairs don’t come apart. In fact one of the people asked him about joint failure on his chairs, to wit he said with sincere humility, I don’t know because I have never had a chair come back.

I got to hear about 18th century chisels from Adam Cherubini and watch him use his four-foot  plus bowsaw. He had to look behind him before sawing so he didn’t take someone out. I watched an attendee from Idaho round the corner and spy Adam. Her mouth opened and her camera came out. I bet that picture was a keeper.

Last but not least is my new international drinking partner, Phil from Phillyplanes in the UK, which reminds me of the only downside to the event. The 8 a.m. starting time.…

— John Hoffman

Sometimes when I look at old pieces of furniture, I can convince myself that perhaps old-growth timber is like melamine. It just doesn’t move with the seasons like modern wood does.

What else can explain the survival of so many pieces of furniture that defy the holy writ of hygroscopic activity? Tabletops are vigorously nailed to aprons without splitting. Stretchers and sides of sideboards have grain that runs contrary – the joinery should have pulled itself apart but it’s still tight. Wide backs that should have expanded and torn apart a carcase are still perfectly fitted.

Sometimes I think we over-engineer our projects to accommodate problems that will never happen.

This week I’m building a dry sink based on a circa 1770 Connecticut piece, and I’m torn between building the piece as it was originally made and building it to compensate for seasonal wood movement.

For example: The 26” x 26 door on the front of the original is made from two wide planks that are joined with a tongue-and-groove joint and battens. When I created my construction drawing in CAD, I drew it as a frame-and-panel door instead. I calculated that a 26”-wide plank door is going to move almost 1/4".

As I milled out the sweet-smelling Eastern white pine, however, I found that I had two 14”-wide clear boards that would make a door that looked just like the original. I held up the two boards and said: It’s worth the risk. The project will look better with a primitive wide-plank door.

Then came the problem with the top and the splash. On the original, the 26”-wide top is captured on all four edges by splash pieces that are nailed on. The top should have split or blown apart the splash, but it hasn’t.

I considered building it like the original, but I decided against it. I’m going to make the top so it floats in a groove in the splash pieces – basically like a solid-wood drawer. The end result will be indistinguishable from the original (except from the back), so I think that is a decision I can live with.

And then there are the hinges. The original has strap hinges on the door, but they are clearly later additions. But I have no idea what the original hinges looked like. And I like the strap hinges. So iron strap hinges are on order and in the mail.

And when the time comes to nail the living snot out of the piece, well, we’ll have to see what happens then.

— Christopher Schwarz