Coffee and Sawdust: My Journey with Eric Ripa Woodworks
So, picture this: it’s a crisp Saturday morning, and I’m sitting at my kitchen table with this steaming mug of coffee that’s probably more ground than actual bean at this point. The smell of the coffee wafts through the air while I also catch that distinct scent of wood shavings and sawdust lingering from last night’s adventures down in my garage. Yeah, my little corner of the world has turned into the unofficial workshop of Eric Ripa Woodworks.
I never really set out to be a woodworker. I mean, I grew up around it—my dad had all kinds of tools hanging on the walls of the garage, but it wasn’t until I found myself stuck at home during a weird stretch of time a few years back that I thought, "Hey, why not give this a shot?" And boy, did I learn some things the hard way.
The First Project: A Simple Bench
I vividly recall my first real project. I thought, "Let’s start simple with a bench!" So, I dug into this old pile of pine I found at a nearby lumber yard. Pine is honestly one of the easiest woods to work with, or so they say. I grabbed a miter saw, a jigsaw, and some clamps. Don’t even get me started on that old jigsaw. I swear that thing had seen better days. The motor sounded like a cat in a blender for half of the cuts.
I started cutting the pieces, and, oh man, it was harder than I thought. I measured once, cut twice, and ended up with two of the longer pieces and one that was—wait for it—three inches too short. I almost gave up when I realized I was going to have to make a run back to the lumber yard. So discouraging, right? But you know what they say: patience is a virtue, and I strapped up my battering ram of a truck and headed back out.
When I got back, I remember standing in the garage, just staring at all the cut pieces. It looked like a puzzle with missing pieces. But then this weird thing happened. I laughed. Like, genuinely laughed, because in that moment, the whole idea of craftsmanship suddenly felt comical. Who knows? Maybe I was destined to make art out of chaos.
Those Mortise and Tenon Joints
After finally getting my measurements right, I decided to try my hand at some mortise and tenon joints. If I could nail (pun intended) this part, I felt like I’d really made some progress. So, I dug into it, watching some YouTube videos and grabbing my chisel, which was duller than a spoon in a teacup. I remember holding that chisel, thinking, "This isn’t going to work." But there I stood, chipping and banging away.
Oh man, when I finally got those joints to fit together—you’d think I’d won the lottery! There was this solid “thunk” sound as the tenon slid snugly into the mortise. I told myself, “If it breaks apart later, at least I can proudly say it looked good for a moment!” The satisfaction of creating that connection made the beforehand struggle feel worth it.
The Finish—Oh, the Smells!
Now we get to the finishing part. I went for a natural wood finish because, you know, I like that wholesome look. I remember cracking open that can of Danish oil—it smelled fantastic. Rich, nutty, like a fresh loaf of bread. If only they could bottle that scent to go with a good cup of coffee.
As I applied it, there was this magical moment when the wood just seemed to come alive. All those hard-cut edges and blemishes turned into rich, deep colors. And I’ll be honest; I stood there sniffing the wood like a fool, wishing it could be bottled and I could cash in as the next cologne sensation. “Eau de Wood” or something like that.
Lessons Learned the Hard Way
But trust me, not everything was sunshine and rainbows. I had my moments of doubt, like the time I accidentally spilled a whole can of polyurethane all over my workbench. You’d think syrup was flowing from my garage at that point. There I was, scrambling for rags and patience, just praying I wouldn’t ruin the wood I had slaved over. Sometimes you gotta laugh at yourself, right?
And let’s not even talk about sanding. I figured using a random orbital sander would save time, but I ended up with divots everywhere instead of a smooth finish. It made me realize that sometimes the old-fashioned elbow grease is what you need. Nothing beats the feeling of achieving that buttery smooth surface when you finally get it right, but oh the patience it required!
Just Go for It
Looking back, I wouldn’t trade those days of trial and error for anything. Every mistake taught me something, whether it was about wood, tools, or my own tenacity. If you’re watching from afar thinking about giving woodworking a shot, just go for it! There’s something about it that grounds you, even when everything is going wrong.
You might make a mess, and you might even spill a few things, but those moments? They’re what will make the final product all the more special. So grab a cup of coffee, don’t be afraid of making mistakes, and step into that workshop of yours. Trust me; you won’t regret it.
