There's something to be said for a certain level of ignorance. It has certainly served me well in my life. Years ago, when I sang in a band, I didn't play an instrument, and I would want to go straight from one song into another. The instrumentalists would tell me it couldn't be done, and I'd say "Like this..." and sing what I wanted. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it didn't. Nobody died.
The first piece of user-driven 'e-learning' I ever created was done using PowerPoint and a screen capture tool called SnagIt. Apparently that couldn't be done either. Except I did it. And it worked.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not describing a level of defiance here. It's not that people say a thing can't be done and that then fires me up to prove them wrong. It's that I think of something I want to do, and decide on a way to do it. Sometimes I find out before I begin the actual work that it (allegedly) can't be done. Sometimes it is only after I've done it that I find out it can't be done. Sometimes when people tell me a thing can't be done, they're right. Sometimes I say "But what about..." and it turns out they weren't right.
I seem to have an overdeveloped 'how hard can it be' gland (perhaps it takes up the space where my schadenfreude gland is supposed to be, because those who know me will attest to the fact that I am singularly lacking in that area).
That same blithe lack of realism is found in most areas of my life. The work I do with my hands is no exception. There are so many examples of things that I didn't know couldn't be done before I did them.
Today's post is about one small example of that.
I acquired a little stool from a house clearance not far from my home. It was pine. It was rickety. And it was strung with hideous green nylon twine. I know it doesn't look hideous in the photo, but trust me: it was.
First I took the twine off. I Freecycled that to a keen allotment gardener for his peas and beans.
Then I made it a little less rickety by sanding off a lot of excess of glue, previously applied for no doubt the same reason, and re-gluing it. One tip: new glue doesn't generally stick very well to old glue (does that make sense?), so if you need to re-glue something, take the old glue off first.
Then I painted the frame a lovely duck egg blue, and gave it a good waxing.
So far, I haven't mentioned anything that 'can't be done', have I? Well, here it comes...
What was I going to do about that top? I could just screw on a plank of wood. I could put a piece of wood with a cushion on top. But I liked that woven look. And how hard could it be?
I bought cotton ribbon in duck egg blue and cream. Two different designs. Then I cut lengths of it and wove a new seat for the stool. Starting in one corner and alternating between north-south and east-west. I pulled it as tight as I could and stapled it with my trusty staple gun. Then I covered the ends and staples with some calico strips, much as I do when I'm reupholstering a chair. And hey presto! A stool for teddy.
It never occurred to me to think that the width of the ribbon and the dimensions of the chair would be a mismatch...and they weren't. It worked perfectly. It was only when I put the item up on my Folksy store and Facebook page that I found out that it was tricky to do a seat like that and easy to get it wrong.
I say again: there's a lot to be said for not knowing something can't be done. I'm sure there's a lot of deep philosophy that can be extrapolated from this, but it's just how I work. Perhaps I'm just in permanent denial. Don't disillusion me, will you? I seem to get more done this way.
The first piece of user-driven 'e-learning' I ever created was done using PowerPoint and a screen capture tool called SnagIt. Apparently that couldn't be done either. Except I did it. And it worked.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not describing a level of defiance here. It's not that people say a thing can't be done and that then fires me up to prove them wrong. It's that I think of something I want to do, and decide on a way to do it. Sometimes I find out before I begin the actual work that it (allegedly) can't be done. Sometimes it is only after I've done it that I find out it can't be done. Sometimes when people tell me a thing can't be done, they're right. Sometimes I say "But what about..." and it turns out they weren't right.
I seem to have an overdeveloped 'how hard can it be' gland (perhaps it takes up the space where my schadenfreude gland is supposed to be, because those who know me will attest to the fact that I am singularly lacking in that area).
That same blithe lack of realism is found in most areas of my life. The work I do with my hands is no exception. There are so many examples of things that I didn't know couldn't be done before I did them.
 |
| Pine, rickety and in need of TLC |
I acquired a little stool from a house clearance not far from my home. It was pine. It was rickety. And it was strung with hideous green nylon twine. I know it doesn't look hideous in the photo, but trust me: it was.
First I took the twine off. I Freecycled that to a keen allotment gardener for his peas and beans.
Then I made it a little less rickety by sanding off a lot of excess of glue, previously applied for no doubt the same reason, and re-gluing it. One tip: new glue doesn't generally stick very well to old glue (does that make sense?), so if you need to re-glue something, take the old glue off first.
Then I painted the frame a lovely duck egg blue, and gave it a good waxing.
So far, I haven't mentioned anything that 'can't be done', have I? Well, here it comes...
What was I going to do about that top? I could just screw on a plank of wood. I could put a piece of wood with a cushion on top. But I liked that woven look. And how hard could it be?
 |
| How hard could it be? |
It never occurred to me to think that the width of the ribbon and the dimensions of the chair would be a mismatch...and they weren't. It worked perfectly. It was only when I put the item up on my Folksy store and Facebook page that I found out that it was tricky to do a seat like that and easy to get it wrong.
 |
| Hey Presto! A stool for teddy |
I say again: there's a lot to be said for not knowing something can't be done. I'm sure there's a lot of deep philosophy that can be extrapolated from this, but it's just how I work. Perhaps I'm just in permanent denial. Don't disillusion me, will you? I seem to get more done this way.
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