My only significant effort today was the trailer. Overnight I settled on a third layout for the upper cabinets and I think this one will work and look better than plans A or B. I did the math for cutting the rails and stiles for both upper and lower face frames, then went to the wood shop down at the rec center to cut them. The upper frame is especially tricky because it aligns with the last spar, the one to which the 4' piano hinge attaches. Getting everything precisely square and flush is critical if I want the galley lid to close and seal properly.
I got back about lunchtime and the spent the afternoon assembling the upper face frame and installing the scabs which will hold it in place. I also put the tile down on the galley floor which has to happen before the lower face frames can be installed. Tedious work not ideally suited for an ADD pastor with a Monday hangover. But I'm trying to teach myself deliberate pacing and achieve the quality outcomes that only come with it. I began the VW project with that in mind and it's carrying over to the trailer. Slow down, enjoy the journey, and take more pride in craftsmanship than completion.
"Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance" meets '62 VW's and Teardrops.
That's a continuum, huh? Some people are such perfectionists that they have trouble finishing anything. My natural inclination is to live at the other end of the spectrum, making compromises for the sake of reaching self-defined goals. So I keep talking to myself, forcing myself to fiddle and finick (if that's not a word it should be; there should be a verb form, too.)
You have to be 55 or older to live in Sun City, AZ, the nation's very first age-restricted community. But that doesn't tell the story; the average age here according to Census Dept. figures is 73. Average! Which means Pam and I offsetting some seriously old people, a fact confirmed every time we drive local streets.
Buicks, handicap plates and those funky big plastic sunglasses.
Yeah, I'm the punk kid around here, something I'm reminded of every time I go to the wood shop, which I do every few days with this trailer project.
Drives me crazy!
I'm on a mission. My goal is to just once get in and out of there without one of the old guys telling me I'm doing it wrong. So far I'm standing in the wrong place, have my hand in the wrong place, should have the board flipped over, should be using a push stick for that cut (4" rip), and don't have my badge properly displayed (today's offense).
We've both noticed how often young residents like us (it's all relative) are viewed as outsiders and resented. And this place is ALL about rules. Old people like rules because they think rules are walls, keeping the bad stuff out. The various rooms at the rec center have signs everywhere telling you what you may and may not do, what can and must not be worn.
So I probably need to accept my fate and the inevitable correction every time I'm there on how it should be done. And I try to do as told, if only to eliminate one more offense I can be called on next time, though they don't show any signs of running out. My natural tendency to sarcasm wanted to tape my official wood shop badge to my forehead but I checked that ugly part of my personality and pinned it to my shirt pocket like a good little boy.
I just come home, leave the garage door up, and crank up the Rock n' Roll.
7 comments:
Whippersnapper.
Apparently, "finick" is a word:
fin·ick [fin-ik]
verb (used without object)
1. to affect extreme daintiness or refinement.
2. to trifle or dawdle.
That verb seems unrelated to its adverb. I wonder if there's a common root back there someplace.
I have 2 older sisters, 69 & 71; the relatively small (~10 yr) gap in years belies the transoceanic gap in attitude, self-perception, cultural viewpoint and (the litmus test) use of technology. My youngest sister only recently stopped asking me to Google for her. I tell people I’m 61 going on 16, where my sisters identify far more readily with our mother than with me. Something to do with becoming an adolescent between 1963 & 1969… at least that’s my working theory.
Jim, a couple of weeks back I read a column by Joel Stein (TIME) about the conflict in age-restricted community between "the greatest generation" seniors and the newly arriving "boomer" seniors who were H.S. and college students in the turbulent '60s. They get along as well now as then. He gave several examples that rang very true re. Sun City, incl. technology and mutual disdain.
Thx, I'll look up the Joel Stein piece. (In the meantime, thinking it over, I'm inclined to push the fence both back and forward, 1960 to 1974, to take in the Kennedy election and the Nixon resignation. This theory is a work in progress... and, because I have no facts or data, I can do what I want with it ;-> How "Boomer mentality" is that?!?
According to myEtymology.com, it comes from the Latin word "finis" (boundary, end, limit). I don't know if that helps much.
Finick and finical/finicky are both derivations of "fine", which also comes from "finis".
Don't let anyone look down on you because you are young...ish. *grin*
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