Learning woodworking

I've never been able to make anything out of wood until this week. I had some 2X6 scraps lying around and kept placing them this way and that until a pattern that looked useful emerged. I couldn't make the item by simply nailing together what I envisioned so I put some planks together like a Z door, you know, like on a barn or shithouse. When it felt strong enough I drew the shape I wanted on it and cut off the excess with a saber saw, an old Black & Decker I bought when they first came out in 1962, or 3 or 4 or sometime about then. I twisted in an I-bolt at the intersection of the overall length and breadth point, tacked on a long tail made from an old discarded bead sheet and I had myself a perfect kite. It is about 5 feet tall since I used a shithouse door as my model for beginning the project but in the trimming into size I lost the bottom of the Z brace, had to pry a couple pieces of the kite itself off it, and use he piece a different direction reattach the bottom.

Since I live only a couple of blocks from our next to the biggest city park I decided to test fly my new kite there. About 50 feet from my property line I came back, got my GMC truck, and picked up the kite on my way to the park. That sumbitch is sturdily built I tell ya. I drug it over near the lagoon, (La Goon, the French short singular meaning Goon in English)(, for its first test flight. I near-ran about 9 steps, (about my limit these days), dragging that dismal slab and it wouldn't take off and fly. Maybe the sturdy I-bolt plowing up the park has something to do with it. So I looked around for an assistant and spotted a 6 year old boy, stood the kite on it's tail and told him to hold it that way. Just when I had the rope taunt and ready for my 20 foot dash the damned thing fell over on the kid and he began squalling like kids do. I went over and asked him if he was hurt and he said no and I called him a little sissy told him to shut up or I'd slap him upside the head and give him something to squall about. He called me a mean old bastard and left.

I won't even attempt to chronicalize, (new word soon to be added to your Funk & Wagnels, American edition), My nest attempt at flight. Suffice it to say that the kite got wet and smeared with goose shit, I had to walk home, shower off the the stink of that filthy pond, and go back and retrieve all my stuff.

There's some weather station or something in, maybe, New Hampshire where the wind blows abut 130 MPH at 28 below 0 F. Maybe I'll hire some kite enthusiast to try and fly it there because I sure as Hell ain't going to a place like that.

Just broke ribs laughing at your endeavour

The first thing I ever remember building was a stick and newspaper kite with my dad, when I was probably six years old.

Funny story.... when my kids were little I built an addition to my garage. I bought my kids and the neighbor kid hammers and a box of nails each, All day long I would hear bang, bang, bang, ouch!, bang, bang, bang! They actually learned a lot that summer.