Coffee and Sawdust: My Journey Through Woodworking Classes in Northern Kentucky
So, there I was, sitting in my garage—because that’s where I spend most of my evenings—sipping on a cup of cold brew (bless the coffee gods for iced coffee), surrounded by all sorts of tools and scrap wood. You know how it goes; I had grand plans to finally tackle the bookshelf I’d been dreaming about. But first, I’ll take you back to when I decided to jump into woodworking classes around Northern Kentucky.
I was fresh out of a rough patch at work, and to be honest, I just needed something to focus on. You know how life feels a bit chaotic at times? I needed that grounding element, something where I could feel, well, accomplished. So, on a whim—after scrolling through my Instagram feed filled with amazing handmade furniture—I signed up for a class at a local shop. Spoiler alert: it was one of the best decisions I ever made, even if it started with some hiccups.
A Humble Beginning
Walking into that class for the first time was like a kid entering a candy store, only instead of candy, it was all lumber and tools. The smell of freshly cut pine hit me right away, and I felt this rush of excitement mixed with anxiety. I could see a whole bunch of folks, some older, some younger, each with their own backstories, but all sharing that same glint of curiosity in their eyes.
We started slow, getting to know the basics—things like grain direction, the different types of wood (my love for oak and walnut blossomed here), and how to use power tools without losing a finger. I still remember the first time I tried using a jigsaw. I had this beautiful piece of cherry wood in front of me, and my hands were literally shaking. You know that feeling? Like, “What if I mess this up?”
Well, I kinda messed it up. The line I was supposed to follow ended up looking more like a wiggly snake than a straight edge. I thought I’d ruined it, but my instructor just chuckled and said something that stuck with me. “It’s not about perfection; it’s about progress.” That was my first lesson, and honestly, it took me a bit to feel it sink in.
Trials and Triumphs
As the weeks rolled on, I found myself getting a bit more comfortable. I still had my share of “what-the-heck-was-I-thinking” moments, though. One time, I was so pumped about making a set of coasters. I picked out some pretty ash wood—light-colored, nice grain—you know the type. I thought, “How hard can this be?" Turns out, harder than I thought.
I went home one day after class, fired up, and started cutting my pieces. I even had this new router I’d been itching to use. Long story short, I didn’t fully read the manual (who does?), and I accidentally routed a groove into the wrong side of one of the coasters. I almost threw the entire batch out. I mean, who needs another set of “damaged” coasters, right? But then I remembered that teacher of mine saying something about embracing flaws. So, instead, I turned that little mishap into a funky design. Honestly, I had a good laugh when it actually worked out and turned into something unique.
Community Vibes
One thing that surprised me was how much camaraderie I felt in the class. We’d swap stories, share tools, and sometimes even bumble through our mistakes together. This one guy, Bob, he’d been doing this for years but was taking the class to learn some new techniques. He had this amazing collection of vintage hand tools—some you could tell had stories written all over them. I still remember the sound of his hand plane gliding over the wood; it was like a soothing melody, or maybe just a relaxing hum of passion.
Then there was Lucy. She was in her sixties, yet her energy could put any twenty-something to shame. She once made a glorious wooden bench from reclaimed wood she found by a dumpster. I was definitely inspired. I remember thinking, "If she can do that, what’s stopping me from dreaming?"
The Final Project
When we reached the final project, I had settled on that darn bookshelf again. I had envisioned something simple but elegant, a cozy little piece for my home office. But boy, did I second-guess myself throughout the process! I used oak—lovely, sturdy oak—and it sounded great with each cut. But when it came time to assemble the pieces, I thought I’d totally miscalculated the dimensions.
There I was, in my garage, measuring and measuring again. At one point, I almost gave up. I thought maybe I should just stick to buying furniture instead of making it. But then I remembered everything I’d learned, along with the people who had encouraged me. After some deep breaths and a small pep talk, I took one last look at those edges, grabbed my clamps, and pieced it together. When I stepped back, I saw that bookshelf standing proudly, ready to hold all my favorite novels and, yes, some random knickknacks too.
A Warm Reminder
As I sit here now, with my homemade coffee cup in hand and my books neatly resting on that shelf, I can’t help but smile at how far I’ve come. It’s made me realize that woodworking isn’t just about making things; it’s about finding a part of yourself, about community, and about experiencing the joy of creation—flaws and all.
So, if you’re sitting on the fence about taking a woodworking class, or really any new endeavor, let me be the friend who nudges you. Just go for it, even if you worry you’ll make mistakes. Those mistakes? They might just lead to the most beautiful things you never expected. Trust me; you’ll thank yourself later.
