Like I want to read this...take me home.
With some Pepto Bismol, I can actually tolerate this. I want to see the old stuff at Blogspot or Archives.
PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE PART FOUR PART FIVE CONCLUSION
Yes, nails. Bob's answer to everything would be the answer to mine! I mean, he substituted nails for carpet tacks, drywall screws, roofing material (for five entire layers!), cabinets, drawers, doors, wall paneling, additional measures to vinyl flooring--his imagination for nails had no limits! I just IM'd Mr. Sapphire. "Can you help me remember all the places we've found Bob's nails?" His reply, "Jeez!" I deferred his obsession with screws, but you never know...
Onward and forward, we went. I worked a while and checked on Tiger's Eyes progress. Granted, the instructions were complex, but it soon became apparent that, as enthusiastic as he was about actually using the finished product, I wasn't getting much help on the construction bit of things. I told him how to use the ruler. If he couldn't at least saw the wood pieces, just mark them where I needed to cut later.
Mr. Sapphire joined in the fray when I whipped out the saw. I like my man. He thinks tools/power tools are a his/hers kind of thing. That's fine with me, because I need my hands for my work, and sometimes the vibrations of power tools set me back a bit, leaving them feeling fuzzy and inconordinuted, or however you spell that, because that's what it would look like after I used power tools for too long. The cutting progressed nicely, but I work in my office in my bedroom, and construction took place out back in the snake rooms. That meant I had to install a spring in my butt, you know, to bounce up and out of this chair, run back there, come here and type about Ms. Smith's onychocryptosis and plantar fasciitis, then show where to put a mark or two back there again. My tension reached an all-time high. I know that repetition is vital to teaching your child how to expand his vocabulary, but I don't want what came out of my mouth that and two more subsequent evenings to leave his mouth!
With the small 1" x 1" wood, we knew bigger nails wouldn't work. With the decorative nails we thought would work, they weren't long enough. After another trip to Don's (thank you for having a store less than a mile from my home in our power grid and thank you, town, for deslicking that part of the road), we had appropriate nails...for the 1" pieces. They split the thinner wood!
I whipped out the drill and found the smallest bit. Once again, Mr. Sapphire to the rescue. I marked the points on the wood with a ballpoint pen and he drilled for me, getting the groove started so the nail wouldn't split the wood. It looked like a frame for a device to hurl! Woo hoo! Thank goodness. We had to notch things, both by design and by necessity, and he helped there, too. I think he swore less than I did. He always looked at me, though, like "What were you thinking?" As if I could read his thoughts, I kept muttering about power outages. If we hadn't had the power outage, we'd be right on time, by dang. Stupid hamster. Couldn't think clearly. Chocolate fixes anything for at least five minutes. Wait, no store for that, either.
Side note: Occasionally, I go to the Wal-Mart website and have them create my own custom CDs for me. The first one, "Disappointed Children" (no lie) got played over and over again. By the time Tiger's Eye heard "Come Out and Play" for the fourth time, he asked me if he could turn it off. I emulated a wounded tiger, and he backed off. That CD prompted three more spinoffs, by the way, "Screaming Children," "Mourning Children," and "Hysterical Children," which has Hysteria by Def Leppard on it. The kids hate my music, hence the names. When I get some more cash, expect "Exasperated Children," "Earplug-Wearing Children," and/or "Mom Shops Alone."
We found the wood filler and attempted to fix the splits. Then, we got to this part:
Please note where the nipples sit, one on each side of the wood around the rods. He calls them "sleeves." I wonder where he gets his. We know Home Depot doesn't have them. Anyway, we got that part.
His sleeves, our nipples.
We got this part, too.
Now, the bucket thing? That's supposed to be the
coffee can. Well...small problem. Another one? Remember
the size of the coffee can? Somehow, when we tried to swing the 6-1/2"
axle, it was too long to fit through our nailed construction, which is kinda
permanent. Yup, too long, which meant the coffee can was too wide,
too. So, we went back to Don and had him cut down the rod some more,
and that's when we also found out about his lack of capacity for
nipple reconstruction surgery "sleeve" adjustment. We ended
up niching the board to accommodate the extra "sleeve" length. We
didn't call them sleeves, though. We went with our first impression.
It seemed to keep me from screaming expletives as long as we could lighten
the mood with my prepubescent mentality.
The new piece fit, but for the life of me, I can't remember how wide it ended up being. I do know it was wide enough to swing through and accommodate a small coffee can. Yay, us! After whittling, notching, drilling, sawing, jigsawing, sanding, and bouncing around, we finally had it all constructed, but it was too late to test it and there wasn't any room in the house for the throwing arm to make a full motion. That, and we still needed to apply the pin, attach the eye screws, and fashion the twine-and-pouch combo. That left us one night to finish and one night to perfect. We breathed a little easier. And that was a good thing. We needed the air.
PART ONE PART TWO PART FOUR PART FIVE CONCLUSION
This story is so copyrighted! Reliving this trauma hasn't been cathartic. I'm on the schedule to see a shrink, so if you steal this and I find out about it, you'll be compacted into tennis ball size and launched. I won't need the trebuchet.
Sapphire wrote this. Sapphire Tigress has been around since 1992, when BBS was popular. I can prove it. My son can prove it. It's still in my mother's garage to prove it. A lot of impressed freshman can prove it. Please, just hand out the link. I lived through it. At least give me credit!
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