Last Friday we went to my father-in-laws for dinner. He knows that I want to do woodworking around my house and got me a pair of great tools for Christmas.
He told me that he knew what he was giving me for my birthday. He has a tool at his shop that he has never used and it would be perfect. So I’m thinking this’ll be great. After a couple of glasses of wine and dinner, he asked me if I wanted to go look at his shop. He’s a painter by trade and has an enormous garage shop that, of course, gave me shop envy in the worst way. This is painful, in a guy way (no tears), since we just fixed up an extra bedroom for K. It’s her new sewing/craft/project room; I have a part (read small) of the garage in which to move tools around. I’m beginning to feel like a dog without a doghouse.
Back to the shop; K’s dad spots the tool, a jointer, he’s going to give me and asks if we want to take it home that night. I thought, what the heck, we’re here let’s do it. It only weighs about 500 lbs. Moving that thing in to the back of my 4Runner on a hot and extremely humid night left me drenched in sweat. Of course the door had to be tied down and the tool, attached to a base, sounded as if we had a sneaker-full basketball court in our vehicle. The squeaking was beyond bad and I knew K would pop a vein on the side of her head; I couldn’t wait!
The ride home was damn near unbearable for me as well as K and the kids, surprisingly, zonked out. I waited until Saturday morning to unload the beast and then realized what a jointer does. At least I believe it faces boards to give them a flat edge. I have no idea what I’m going to with it; at least short term. And it’s a good quality, belt driven tool.
I asked K what would possess him to buy a jointer in the first place. I said it would be like me, a huge music lover, buying a Rick Astley cd.
