“If I look at it long enough, I’ll figure it out.”  That was the thought that went through my mind, anyway.  

I sat just a bit longer, staring at the sewing machine.  I looked down at the spool of thread, then placed it on the pin that I knew was there to hold it.  Going with the obvious, I slid on the disc of plastic that holds the spool in place.

It had been a while since I’d sat before this sewing machine, but I’ve done so many times in the past.  It’s been a while, though.  I knew how to thread it, but I didn’t know how to thread it.

So, as I understand it, the route thread takes through a sewing machine is designed primarily to let it leave the spool with an appropriate amount of tension.  It leaves the spool, goes over the river and through the woods, all on the way to the eye in the end of the needle.  It’s the river and woods part that’s tricky.

Muscle memory.  That’s the ticket.  Without a lot of thought, I pulled the thread under the first metal thingy and over the next.  It looked like that nearby slot was a good place to pull through, so through it I went, pulling down, around the tensioner gadget, back up through the same slot, and into the metal wire that was fortunately resting in a position where it was visible.

I had this.

I pulled back down, past the metal bar, and–I was seriously surprised at this–through the wire guide that I just knew sat behind the needle holder.  After I did so, I actually looked to make sure it was there.  Yes, it was.  Wow.  After that, it was a simple matter of threading the needle.  Always start with thread that’s freshly cut.  It’s a lot easier that way.  

Boom.  It’s the little things.

Believe it or not, putting the bobbin in was even easier.  Incredible.

Like so many do-it-yourselfers these days, I was making a face mask.  I try not to dwell on that too much, but making a face mask I was.  I was making that first one for myself, since I figured making a larger one would be easier than making the significantly smaller one that would fit my wife.  I know we’ll be getting a lot of use out of them, so we want several on hand.

I know I learned many things when I was in high school all those years ago, but the two I’m most thankful for are how to sew, and how to type.  Those classes, plus growing up in a family of makers, gave me skills that have served me well. 

I do enjoy sewing, and making things in general.  I just wish I didn’t need the sewing thing for a time like this.

“Okay, I need you to hold this end of the tape measure right here; right here on this mark.  While you hold that, I’m going to stretch it out and we’ll see how many inches it is to that mark over there.”

As I set the tape measure down on the block of wood I had put in place a moment ago, I said, “Okay, now come down here and let’s see how many inches it shows.”

As my six-year-old granddaughter moved with a bit of swagger in her little step to where I was standing, I quickly moved to her previous location and put the tape back on the mark.  She was close, but still…  I moved back to where I started and we both looked down at the markings on the ruler.

“Okay, what number is that?”

She looked.  I looked.  She continued to look.  I waited until the point of frustration, then prompted, “What’s the first number?”

“One.”

“What’s the second?”

“Zero.”

“And the third?”

“Three,” she said.  Then, seconds later, “One hundred and three!”

“High five!” I exclaimed, as her face, broad with a smile, looked up at me. “That’s right, one hundred three,” I told her.  “That’s exactly what we wanted it to be!”  

My oldest granddaughter and I, with a little help from my long-deceased friend Pythagoras, were checking to make sure the corner of the wall for the catio I was building was square.

No, she doesn’t have a clue what the Pythagorean theorem is, and no, she doesn’t fully comprehend what 103 inches means.  She is, however, beginning to understand she can use that long springy thing to measure how far away something is.  I’ll take that for now, and later we’ll work on the rest.  And don’t worry, we’ll wait until at least the second grade before we start with power tools!

—

An aside: A “catio,” in case you didn’t know, is basically a fenced room on one’s deck or porch.  Yes, it’s for the cats.  Do my daughter and her husband spoil their cats?  Ya think?

 

With both hands holding the pry bar, I raised it to head-height, then drove the straight end into the joint of the stair railing with a solid thunk.  The wood separated slightly from the post to which it was attached, so I took the curved end of the bar and pounded it into the newly-opened crack with my right hand.  Lifting the lever with both hands, I separated the railing from the post completely and the wooden structure fell to the ground some two feet below with a satisfying thud.

“That was cool.  I didn’t even hurt myself,” I said aloud to no one but my dog.

—

I’m what one could graciously call a slow starter when it comes to projects.  One less gracious would call me a procrastinator, and with no grace at all the question would be, “Why don’t you just get started?” 

My favorite explanation–though it’s not an excuse–for someone like me is that I’m a perfectionist who’s reluctant (read: afraid) to get started because of the commitment to something that might not turn out as I want it to.

Something, in this case, like a set of stairs off of our back porch that needs to be rebuilt.  If I didn’t take them down soon, nature would do so through the even-slower process of decomposition.  That’s less than ideal.

So, this was the day and I knew I’d have to jump in.  I don’t have the materials yet to rebuild the stairs, but the first step was to take the railings off the old ones, so I decided to just go for it.

I opted to eschew power tools since there were only two cuts to be made.  Standing in my woodshop, I grabbed a hand saw designed for firewood, decided it would do, and walked out to the back porch.  With a lot less effort than dragging out a power saw, I cut the lower supports of the railings off at ground level.

With the lower supports cut, I used the pry bar to remove the structures from the posts at their upper ends.  Piece of cake.  One trip with the wheelbarrow to take everything out to the street for pickup, and step one was done in less than 30 minutes.

With the railings gone, the project is a lot harder to put off, and I don’t see it being long before I can check it off the list.

Oh, yeah…the list.  This is my summer to knock it out, I can feel it!