Lessons not learned

Measure twice, cut once. Measure thrice, cut once. Measure measure measure measure measure and then think about cutting. Dad was always VERY specific about that.

((((sigh)))) You would think I would learn. Especially when I am making an exact copy of something sitting right in front of my eyes.

I measured. Twice. Several times even. Flipped the piece over and around to find the best angle. Looked at the measurements again. Revved up the table saw. Cut the piece. Cut it exactly on the mark. Exactly to measure.

Unfortunately, I calculated the distance wrong.... sheesh.... I was an inch short.

Crap crap crap.

What was once a warm, sunny November day by now had turned into a raging thunderstorm. Crap crap crap.

Out into the storm to the plywood store. Back home. Decided to take a break from that project and return to my other project. It only required paint and stain. Seperately, that is... two different pieces.

I love my basement workshop. I have power tools and saws and nuts and bolts and projects all over the place. I also have an ever-growing stack of whacked plywood and miscellaneous oak and pine pieces. It's beginning to look like a quilters stash made of wood. ;-) No, Mom, I am not going to quilt with wood..... I don't have nearly enough different colors of wood.



Yet.