The Joys and Jags of Woodworking with Jim Kingshott
You know, there’s something about the smell of fresh-cut wood that just takes me back to my dad’s garage. It’s like a time machine or something. I can almost hear the sounds of the saw buzzing and the faint rustle of the wood shavings settling down on the cold concrete floor. Man, it feels good to sit here with my coffee and chat about a little woodworking journey I’ve been on recently, inspired by that Jim Kingshott guy—if you haven’t heard of him, he’s quite the craftsman. Not that I’m anywhere near his level, but hey, we all have to start somewhere, right?
So, this particular project was a simple side table—nothing fancy. Just a little something to hold my coffee while I sit in my old recliner and watch the game. But, spoiler alert: it didn’t go as planned at all!
The Beginnings of Chaos
I jumped into this wholesome endeavor with a stack of pine boards I picked up from the local hardware store. They had that lovely, sweet scent, almost like vanilla. But, uh, let me tell you, those boards can be a handful. I grabbed my trusty miter saw—nothing flashy, just a basic one from a brand I can’t even remember. It has served me well for a few years, though, mostly gathering dust, to be honest.
So, excited as a kid on Christmas morning, I started measuring and cutting. And y’know, measuring isn’t always my strongest suit. I mean, who needs to double-check, right? I cut the first board way too short, but at that moment, I thought, “Ugh, it’s just a little too short. It’ll be fine! We’ll just wing it.” Spoiler alert: it was NOT fine.
The Cutting Edge of Disaster
After getting the dimensions all wrong—twice—I finally managed to get the right sizes. My wife popped her head in and asked how it was going. I chuckled nervously, trying to cover up my mess. “Just, um, perfecting the art of freestyle woodworking!” She raised an eyebrow but smiled, probably because she knows that nitpicking won’t change a thing.
So, I gathered my screws and wood glue. I’ve always preferred the good ol’ yellow Titebond wood glue. It’s reliable and pretty much smell like a childhood drawing session. I adhered the pieces of the table together, feeling a surge of that woodworking pride. I thought, “Look at me, I’m practically Jim Kingshott!”
But, oh man, let me tell you about the staining. What did I think—slapping on some walnut stain would give it that high-end look? I didn’t even do a test patch. Nope. Just went for it, brushing it on as if I was Picasso. I took a step back, and all I could muster was an awkward laugh—the stain was blotchy and uneven. Kind of like that painting I did once in high school art class that my teacher politely critiqued.
The Turning Point
At that moment, I almost threw in the towel. I mean, I had all this time and effort in this thing, and it was… well, it was a bit of a dumpster fire. I could just see my dreams of a perfect side table going up in smoke. But then I remembered this little mantra my buddy always says: “It’s just wood. It can be fixed.”
So, I took a deep breath, grabbed some sandpaper, and got to work. It felt a bit embarrassing sanding down my own mistakes, but with every stroke, I felt a little lighter. The sound of the sandpaper rasping against the wood had a surprisingly meditative quality.
Almost There
After a solid bit of elbow grease, I managed to get that stain looking somewhat decent. I slapped on a couple of coats of polyurethane, and let me tell you, that stuff smelled stronger than the garlic bread my wife was whipping up in the kitchen! Anyway, after a little drying time, I assembled everything together and stood back—it wasn’t Jim Kingshott-level, but for a garage project, it was pretty darn good.
I was kind of proud of myself. I even texted my buddy a picture, doing a little “what do you think?” I didn’t know if he’d roll his eyes or genuinely compliment me, but to my surprise, he said, “Looks better than my first table!” That made me smile. I guess we’re all just figuring things out as we go along.
Lessons in Wood and Life
At the end of the day, yeah, it was just a side table. But it turned out to be more than that for me. It felt like a metaphor, you know? Like life just throws these random boards at us, and we have to figure out how to cut, shape, and stain our way through the chaos. Mistakes happen. Frustration happens. But, man, when it all comes together—even if it’s not perfect—it feels like a small victory.
So if you’re out there itching to dive into something new, or maybe you’re worried about messing up, just go for it. I promise, it’s all part of the ride. Who knows, you might just end up with a wobbly little side table that gives you a big ol’ sense of accomplishment. And hey, that’s worth a little sawdust on the floor.
Take it from me: embrace the imperfect journey. And when in doubt, remember the smell of fresh wood will always be there waiting for you when you decide to jump back in.
