Monday, October 19, 2015
DON'T BITCH OUT.
It's not often that I get a chance to start off a blog post like that, but indeed, me and my little dude rode a camel.
Sunday we went to a pumpkin patch.
I gotta say, I don't get out in public very often, but the pumpkin patch is a yearly ritual that I truly enjoy.
It's amazing to me that my son can recall various pumpkin patch events from previous years. He'll recall stuff from when he was 2 or 3 and it just goes to show that you're doing a good job as a parent when these really great memories are able to stick in your kids brains.
This year was kinda monumental for him.
He went through the "haunted barn"...twice.
The first attempt, he bitched out right as we got to the entrance.
We didn't try to force him or convince him, we just chalked up a 30 minute wait in line to time wasted as we politely retracted through the line.
It bothered him that he bitched out. He stood there looking at that barn, stoic and defeated. We coaxed him away with the promise of trying again later.
As we walked through the rest of the attractions, he was proclaiming his determination to go through the barn. He couldn't really enjoy any of the other activities until we tried the haunted barn again.
This time, he and his mom waited in line while I quietly sat on a bench under a witch on a broom.
A little while later my son comes running up to me with pride beaming from his face. He did it...kind of.
Mom had to carrying him through, but he made it.
Immediately we went back to the haunted barn line, but this time it was my turn while mom sat under the witch.
We're standing in that line and he's rambling about what's to come for me, and I tell him "bro, I'm not gonna carry you through like momma...you're gonna walk."
I waited and expected some protest, but was given none...until it was our turn to enter.
As we entered the barn, I could feel the fear in my sons hand, and I had to give him a little tug to get his feet moving forward, but once we were in motion, he put on his bravest face for his old man and muscled through.
Fear will crush you.
Fear will cripple you.
Fear will rob you of your potential.
As you all know, I like to use wood and steel in the furniture making process.
The format is usually wood...with steel accents...repeat.
On this particular build, we decided that it was time for the wood to ride in the fucking back seat for a change.
We had to build an executive desk/work table for a client.
We had already built a ton of furniture for them, so I really wanted to switch it up.
We purchased a sheet of 11 gauge steel for another project, and one morning I had an idea for a rusted steel top.
I wanted the corners of the table to kinda waterfall, but we don't own a brake, or a power hammer, or an english wheel.
So I bolted a piece of pipe to the work table, clamped the sheet, and beat the shit out of the corners with a hammer until they did what I wanted them to do.
Next, we rusted the top. By "rusting the top" I mean spray a bunch of household products on it and then stare at a steel top for the next 2 hours as our rusting cocktail did it's magic.
When it came to the base, I wanted to go simple and clean so that the rusted top steals the show.
I'm always a little afraid to try something new.
My worst case in this situation was that I'd have to go buy another sheet of steel and make a wood top, whoop-di-fucking-doo.
If we never tried to make a top like this because we were afraid it wouldn't work or we'd fuck it up, well, how would anything ever get done or progress?
In the case of my son and the haunted barn, his worse case is that he shit his pants. hell, Zack is on the verge of shitting his pants everyday around 1pm.
My point is...if your worse case scenario is that your gonna fucking die...don't do it. If it doesn't involve dying...give it a whirl...you might learn something.