Richard's historic shop/studio
I’ve never claimed to be Tool Girl. Back in college, my housemates prohibited me from playing with power tools. As I recall, a small incident with a reciprocating saw and one of my fingers precipitated the ban. Both recovered, though the finger required a few stitches.
It’s not that I’m clumsy or incapable; I lost much of the feeling in my fingers and toes to Raynaud’s. If I don’t watch where they are relative to implements of destruction, my digits can get into serious trouble before I notice anything.
As a result, I’ve sailed through adult life without much involvement with tools outside the kitchen–while being married to a guy who knew and loved every kind of tool I could imagine, and many more that I couldn’t. (If there’s a tool commonly used for carpentry, furniture-making, tin-smithing, sculpting granite, and simple blacksmithing that’s not in Richard’s studio, I’ll be surprised.)
If something needed designed, modified, attached, detached, re-sized, re-engineered, or built, he did it. Elegantly and economically. I watched and admired from a safe distance.
Richard's drill and one of his many pairs of vise grips, but that's my tiny screw driver and tape measure!
He’s gone now, and has been since November 27th. And–most of you won’t be surprised by this–I’m the stubbornly independent sort. So I’m slowly teaching myself to use his tools.
Last week, after an embarrassing incident where I found the right tools to repair the broken faucet sprayer in the guest cottage kitchen but couldn’t make them work and got the wrong parts–I decided that I would pick a really simple project to practice my competence. (Fortunately, my neighbor knew just how to fix the faucet sprayer. Thanks, David!)
So when I went to the hardware store to return the faucet-sprayer parts I didn’t need, I bought a towel ring for the master bathroom. (Just because Richard could do everything from build a house to sculpt a granite firepit didn’t mean he always finished the doing….)
Back at home, I raided Richard’s shop for tools, read the instructions, tapped the wall to locate a stud, marked where the mounting plate would go, and then decided to test-fit the assembly before drilling. It didn’t fit. I looked at the instructions again, placed the parts just where the drawing showed. No dice. The assembly wouldn’t fit on its own mounting bracket. Huh.
I took the two pieces out to Richard’s shop where our contractor friend, Bob Spencer, and his son Harry were framing in the wall for the new bathroom. (Thanks, guys!) Bob looked at it and suggested filing the slot in the mounting bracket to make the two fit. I looked at Richard’s box of files, and found my attention straying to the next box over with miscellaneous wrenches and pliers.
Richard's miscellaneous pliers and wrenches
I spotted a pair of vise-grips with a slender snout. Those gave me an idea: bend the top of the bracket so the towel-ring assembly would slip over it.
I took vise-grips and bracket inside, fastened the former to the latter, and bent the bracket slightly. Then tried slipping on the towel ring assembly. Close, but not quite. I bent the bracket a bit more: Success!
Feeling flush with my re-engineering effort, I hefted Richard’s cordless drill in one hand, positioned the bracket and the first screw on the wall with the other–and proceeded to slip and nearly drill my leg. Okay. Try two. Nope.
I looked at the drill. Its rotation direction was set to unscrew, not screw. Oh. I reset it, hefted the drill again, repositioned screw and bracket and–ta da! In went the first screw. A little too tightly. I reversed it carefully until it wasn’t smashing the bracket into the wall. And then picked up the other screw and installed it on the first try.
The finished project...
I slipped the towel-ring assembly over the bracket, tightened the set screw, and stepped back to admire my handiwork. Perhaps it took me four times as long as it would have Richard, but still, I was pleased.
“See!” I said out loud. “Not bad for a beginner, eh?”
I’m pretty sure I heard him chuckle as I walked out to his studio to put the tools back.
*****
BTW, the phrase “tool girl” comes from my friend and fellow writer, Susan Tomlinson, who IS Queen of Tool Girls. Check out her blog. It’s worth the read.
Awesome! i am so very proud of you ~ much love she who is acquiring many new names, from our home to yours
Doc Chery, You’re a honey! Love to you and Miss Maria and all of your fur- and feather-bearers….
Your ability to adapt and grow is an inspiration to me. As always, I am reminded of what a blessing you are in my life!
Khadijah, If I can inspire you, I’m doing well. Seems to me you have plenty of inspiration and creativity yourself, not to mention spunk and sheer willpower!
Yay, Susan. Two-hands clapping.
I knew exactly what you meant as I was reading this. I often try hard to do a job using tools – sometimes I can and most of the time I haven’t any idea what I’m doing. Doug has every tool known to mankind in his shop and uses them all. I have a tiny toolbox my brother gave me with a few essentials: hammer, screw driver, and a few wrenches. I use the hammer and screw driver when I have to.
And yes, Susan Tomlinson’s use of tools amazes me. She needs to write a book.
BTW – the towel rings that Doug put up in our bathroom look almost identical to yours.
Lindy, I hope the towel rings in your bathroom are less cheesy than the one I put up. I can’t believe it was so badly made that the bracket was too big for the assembly to fit over it! Richard would have realized it was too cheesy to buy, but I didn’t. I’m learning… I’ve decided to I’m going to get myself some me-sized tools of my own, including a cordless drill that weighs less than Richard’s 6.5-pound one. Maybe you just need some tools that you really like and want to use! Susan Tomlinson does need to write a book–I think she may be working on one, in fact.
Well done!!!
Thanks, Katia!
Funny, Susan: I cut myself in the kitchen with a big knife (slicing a pineapple) and needed a trip to the E.R., but no one banned me from cooking. . . . Not even the very next meal {wry grin}.
Here’s some of what I’ve learned about fixing and installing things:
1. It will always take more than one trip to the hardware store, because SOMETHING won’t fit.
2. It’s really important to have tools you like and are comfortable with. I do have an electric drill (and a frame that lets me use it as a drill press, heh). I also have a Yankee push drill, which I recommend *strongly.* It’s relatively lightweight, does not need to be plugged in, and for small jobs, it can’t be beat. Mine is plastic and 45 years old and continues to work just great.
What you want, I think, is a smallish toolbox into which you put a few of *your own* tools, one at a time, until you have a small collection of friendly-to-you items. That’s the way I’ve worked my way up.
Things I may not ever conquer: circular saw, table saw, router. Then again, who knows. In addition to the electric drill (I wore one out and had to get a second: the second has a stronger motor than the first, although I’m glad I didn’t have that one initially), I’ve added a jigsaw, saber saw, and sander. And the drill-press-simulator. Everything else is hand tools and I’m very happy with them. (I have several kinds of hand saws, and still use them most of the time.)
Right now, I just wish I had time to build more bookshelves!
I will also say that there’s something comfortable for me in the *process* of using the hand (rather than power) tools, which certainly won’t surprise you, knowing what else I do with my time! I turn to the power tools when the job exceeds my energy levels (drilling 75 holes in a single session), or I need something they give me that the hand tools don’t (like really straight up-and-down drilled holes, or precision saw cuts that I can’t quite pull off with the coping saw).
Deb, Do you know Susan Tomlinson’s Bicycle Garden blog? If not, you’d enjoy it, especially her how-to series on building things (ranging from canoe paddles, and garden beds to custom bicycles). She’s my role model! I like power tools, I just don’t have practice in using them. Thanks for the thoughtful advice. You’re right that I need my own tools, and your list is a good thing to think about. I’m contemplating what I’ll take from the collection in Richard’s studio and what I’ll acquire on my own. It’s a whole new world to learn, and right now I have so much new stuffed in my brain, I’m pretty overwhelmed by needing time to just assimilate all this new knowledge.
I *do* know Susan Tomlinson’s blog, and thanks for your introduction to it. I only wish I had the time to make my house nice. Just keeping them mortgage paid and doing my writing have been full-time (plus) enterprises. Seeing what Susan Tomlinson has done gives me hope for the future.
Her latest post should give you lots of hope! http://www.thebikegarden.com/2012/03/where-i-am.html
I chuckled through the first part where she explains that she was just going to do some organizing and then ended up finishing and furnishing rooms that had been unused for years. It’s never too late! So just keep writing and editing and selling books–and paying the mortgage, and one of these days you’ll have time (and money) to fix up too….
My Yankee push drill looks like the ones with the black handles and red caps at the lower, or lower right, edge of the photos
http://www.oldtoolsnstuff.com/yankee%20style%20push%20drills%20info%20page.htm
Apparently, Stanley quit making them in 2004. Someone else is making a fancier version now. I’m sure it’s very nice. http://www.garrettwade.com/garrettwade-push-drill/p/69P01.01/
The old ones are still on eBay.
Here’s another person who loves a push drill: http://lumberjocks.com/jbertelson/blog/12253
I’m going on and on about this tool because I think it has been the most important item in my discovery that I could do handyperson-related tasks myself.
Thanks for the links, Deb. Turns out I found a push-drill out in Richard’s shop. Should have known he’d have one. ;~)
Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about! Good job! from one Tool Girl to another……bobbi c.
Bobbi, You are another of my tool girl inspirations! I don’t expect to ever reach your level of skill or art, but that doesn’t keep me from admiring it. Can’t wait to see photos of your Two Sisters Cottage now that you’ve got it all fixed up and you’re moved in. (For those who don’t know Bobbi’s blog about buying and renovating a 1930s cottage in Texas, check it out at http://networkedblogs.com/tLqGk)
Susan, I applaud your “handy woman” efforts. I like to work with my hands, but don’t have the strength in my hands to do a lot of things. So I try and limit myself to what I know I can accomplish without getting totally frustrated. I started my own tool box with simple tools that I know I can handle and that I keep hidden in the house. Linas has a shop full of tools too, but I can never find anything I need. So I hide my tools from him so he can’t “borrow” them – because then neither one of us would know where they were. Also – don’t forget to include the hand man’s (or woman’s) secret weapon in your tool box – duct tape!
Emily, Thanks for the chuckle! I can just see you hiding your tools so you’ll know where they are when you need them. And Linas cleverly putting tools “away” in places where they disappear for a long time. On duct tape: my dad regarded it as the solution to everything, which may be why I don’t hold it in as high esteem. (There was the nasty incident of the leaking carburetor in my van that he repaired with duct tape and then didn’t mention it to me….) We all have our stories!
Me, with my punnish quasi-norwegian perspective is pondering the similarities and such of Woman Alone and Woman All One. This blogpost shows neither to be the case, but you’re definitely making positive self-sufficient strides.
Of course, get your own tools, and keep them utilitarianly simple. And do keep them hid in one place. I have mine, but they’re hidden in various places–most of them still hidden from me. (And who can I blame for that?)
Continue the becoming Susan Tweit.
Eduardo, I don’t know where the quasi-Norwegian genes are in you, but they certainly come to the surface often! I need to be self-sufficient within reason, just as I need to remember to ask for help and appreciate it when offered. That’s a healthy balance we all try for, isn’t it? Your advice on tools is good (about keeping them in one place). I hope that yours reveal themselves to you when you need them. ;~)
YAY!! I’m so proud of you. I’m a tool idiot. My husband is no better (don’t tell him that). Our almost-daughter-in-law is the one who can put things together and take them apart. However, now you’ve inspired me to try– daughter-in-law or not.
You sound content.
Denese, I’m enjoying the challenge of learning tools enough that I’ve decided to invest in a few of my own that fit my slender, not so muscled self better than some of Richard’s do. Case in point: his herky Porter-Cable Pro Series cordless drill weighs 6.5 pounds, and it’s just too heavy for me to use for long. Makita makes a similarly powerful cordless driver-drill that weighs 1.2 pounds, with a longer-lasting (but expensive) lithium-ion battery. One-point-two pounds is more my size! You might just enjoy learning some tool competence. It’s fun to do those things for yourself! I am happy, even as I miss my love keenly. Life’s a balance, and acknowledging the grief is part of the balance for me now.
I love our set of Makita drill drivers and charging station. I have very small paws and I can USE it.
I’m contemplating buying one–my local lumber company (at which I have an account, joy of joys) has just the one I need, but it’s a big purchase. They give me the contractor’s discount though because when “we” were building our house (Richard built, I paid bills and consulted on design), we bought all the materials there.
I never had much of a chance to use tools growing up./ My Dad and 3 brothers were always using them, and I wanted to read more than almost anything else.
When I was an adult and living on my own in Yolo, California I bought a used copy of a Time-Lie (I think) book all about various household repairs. I still remember the immense pride I felt the day I installed a tub faucet complete with one of those single handles that changed water temp depending on the angle and twist.
I am woman, hear the water pour!
Diana, I remember those Time-Life books. They were great references. I had a couple a loooong time ago, but I always had housemates who were handier than I was/am, so they were always jumping in before I could do anything myself. Not that I tried all that hard either, having grown up bookish like you! Now I’m determined to learn to do more myself. I can do simple things, but I have to figure everything out; understanding how things work doesn’t come naturally to me the way it does some people. Doesn’t mean I can’t learn though…
Your experience with tools is similar to mine, in spite of full sensation in my digits – my brain, not to sure when it comes to fix-its. But you give me hope. I started making my own bread, seeing how easy it was when D made it and remembering the feel of dough when I was young. So now I’m thinking I can make other things too, like things in the garden. Hammers have always been hazardous to my well-being, but I could see a cordless drill screwing in screws. I think there’s hope. And your towel holder looks simply marvelous, Susan. Another appellation to consider: Susan Can, or better yet: Susan Does. hugs
Mary, Thanks! I love that you can call on the feel of the dough from years back to guide you in making bread, and that you’re boldly figuring out gardening and now thinking of learning tool competence too. Seems to me that the more we teach ourselves, the more confident we are about being able to handle whatever life brings. We don’t have to be the best, just good enough to know we can do what we need for ourselves. And there’s an interesting bonus to competence: the more I learn about things I’ve never bought of myself as being competent at, the more I have to bring to my writing.
Good job! You may not be a big time, “Tool Girl”, but step by step, drill by drill and bit by bit, you’ll get there! I may throw clay on a wheel, operate my kiln, pound a few nails, glue and fill but working the miter saw just terrifies me. (Ok, I did do it once, on one piece and thank the universe for a husband who knows and likes wood working.) I must admit, that drilling holes and installing door pulls was my ‘tool girl’ moment. ( He wasn’t home.)
Susan G-T, Thanks for cheering me on. I actually bought my own cordless drill/driver on Friday, my very first power tool. I never thought I’d own one, or that it would mean so much to me to have a tool that fits me and that I can use with confidence. It’s funny the lessons we learn in life. As for your “tool girl” leanings, I think we learn what we need to do when we need it, hence your ability to manage wheel and kiln, glue and nails. If you need to learn how to use a miter saw someday, you’ll be able to do that too.
Congrats on your new tool purchase. For years, I’ve had my own small tool box with the essentials hammer, nails, picture hangers, epoxy, sandpaper but not my own drill.
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