Glazed and Confused

Tools of the Trade

Glass cutting is a fairly simple task given the correct tools, which I daresay is true for almost any task. Proper equipment just makes a job easier. Think how hard it would have been for the Egyptians to build the pyramids without having enslaved the Israelites? That’s not exactly a great comparison and working with glass isn't quite like pyramid building, but it’s all relative. 

In the framing biz, there are lots of little details that have to be right before the job is done, and glass cleaning is a big 'little detail'.  For people like me these details could become crazy-making.  There really isn’t such a thing as glass that’s cleaned “well enough”.  It’s either clean or it isn’t.   

Glass cleaning is a process, and it is not as easy as one might think, and unlike some I don't have the option of saying, "I don't do windows."

Working with new glass is not so bad. In fact there really is very little cleaning involved with new glass, if any. New glass arrives in boxes, separated by sheets of paper, and it is clean upon receipt.  I think they must package it in a clean room. Our main goal when working with new glass is to keep it clean.  In an effort to keep the new glass clean, we have some very stylish gloves, I mean really chic, to wear while handling it. The gloves keep fingerprints and dirt off the glass. Pretty nifty.   

Yesterday, I was working with some unboxed glass, and therefore it was not clean. So BriGuy had to get it clean.  Feeling self-assured as a veteran window cleaner, I thought, “No problem, got the gloves, got the homemade Windex*.  Gonna TCB!”  I was going to get the job done: botta bing botta boom – done! Well....it was a bit more like botta "are you kidding me?"  My process went something like this: clean one side, clean other side, use air gun to blow off remaining particles and dust, see smudge/dirt spot, clean again, turn over, see another smudge/dirt spot, clean again and on and on. After 10 or so minutes dancing this glass cleaning tango, my Einstein-like mind figured it out: the gloves only keep the glass clean if the gloves are clean. See how that works? Clean gloves, clean glass; dirty gloves, dirty glass.  It was an astounding discovery.  All that to say, dirty glass is frankly...a pain in the glass! (Cheap, I know, but it was right there).

While our super sexy glass gloves really are excellent tools, they aren’t made of Kevlar or chainmail so they don't protect against broken glass cutting into a blood vessel or jabbing into any vital organ. No, I didn't get cut. I almost got cut. Really it was more like I almost got impaled.

I was working with a rather large piece of glass, which I had just painstakingly cleaned, and I was about to set it in the frame when it broke. It broke into two pieces one of which was quite pointy, in that broken bottle used as a weapon kind of way and aimed directly at my abdomen. It scared me nearly to death. If you've ever had a car wreck, you know those moments when it’s happening and you can do nothing and your mind is racing? Well, it was kinda like that. In the split second between the sound of the crack and the actual separation, I had a million thoughts in my mind.  I was certain a red sea was soon to be born out of me, right then and there.  I remember thinking, “Please, please, please don't cut me.  Really, I don't want to bleed, no cuts! Ok, if you are cut, don't throw up and for god’s sake, don't have diarrhea!”  Lucky for me and for Owner and anyone else who might have entered the shop thereafter, my response was to remain still and calm. I did not yell.  I did not scream.  Not one, single expletive crossed my lips. (For real; not a single cuss word. Didn't even think one. No, I'm not lying. Yes, this is the Brian).  Although I was almost certain I had cut my hand, I had not. I just lost a small piece of skin from my gloved finger.    

So you see framing can be a dangerous business.  Between the vicious chopper, that wraith ever lurking and ever ready to cut with it's blades of power and the insidious, harrowing hazards of glazing, we framers must navigate carefully in our quest to get it right.  Like Frodo and Sam, Owner and I move on. 

 

*Owner makes homemade glass cleaner.  Funny thing is, I have done the same since long before I ever worked at the Frame Shop & Gallery.  Peas from the same pod?  Often, I think so and happily.



Back in the saddle

Sunset over Lake Dardanelle
taken by Robert Herron

Three weeks ago Owner's husband was hit by a truck while he was riding his bike.  Thankfully, he didn't suffer any major injuries, and he has mended, but the event gave me great pause about riding my bike on the road. 

Last week a friend of mine invited to me to ride with him.  He is an accomplished cyclist, and I, on the other hand, am not.  I was pleased that he asked me to join him, but I must admit my acceptance was not without some trepidation owing to Owner's husband's experience.  We survived the ride without incident save my near expiration while climbing a very steep and seemingly unrelenting hill, no, a mountainside.  Cruising back to our beginning point,  we were graced with a view of a most audacious sun regaled in shocking pinks and brilliant orange.   We pedaled on and watched our sustaining star sliding off the horizon pushing it's last rays across the lake and mountains like paint on a canvas.  It was a perfect way to end the day.  Since that ride, I am happy to report, I have been back in the saddle.  I wanted to get riding back into my routine, and now I have. 

Part of my daily routine has always included coffee.  Some might call me devoted to coffee.  To quote a dear friend, "Coffee is a commitment."  So true.  I have morning coffee, mid-morning coffee, after lunch coffee, mid afternoon coffee, getting ready to leave work coffee.  I love coffee.  That said, once I leave the house, I rarely finish a cup of coffee.  Usually, I get one or two nice, hot swigs and promptly forget where I set my cup down.  It goes something like this:  Pour cup of coffee, set cup down; forget where cup is; cuss; find cup later, unwittingly take drink of cold coffee, cuss again, pour coffee out, fill cup up again.  Repeat.  (I have a similar routine for car keys and wallet).  The point is this:  coffee has always been part of my routine and unless something drastic happens to change that, it always will be.  So imagine my surprise when I first arrived at The Frame Shop & Gallery and discovered there was no coffee maker.  I let it slide for a while thinking I could make do with something else.  I drink water anyway, but I tried iced tea, fancy vitamin water.  Really?  As if over-priced water or iced tea could begin to fill coffee's shoes!  Eventually, I couldn't continue the charade.  I couldn't continue lying to myself.  Who was I kidding?  It wasn't working.  Saturday, I put an end to my coffee infedility, and I brought in my own coffee pot.  After all, coffee is a commitment.  I might not have my entire routine down yet, but I am getting there a pedal and a cup at a time.

Moonwalking

One of the best parts of being back home is, as I have said before, the people I get to see.  This week I got to see my Jr. English teacher, Mrs. F.  She was a hoot, and despite being a fairly tough teacher, she made us laugh, and we had a good time in her class.  She rolled along with the antics of 16/17 year olds with relative ease, and she sure knew how to shut me up when my constant commentary hit the level of totally obnoxious.  It was great fun to visit with her.  While Mr.s F was in, Owner encouraged her to read this blog.  Subsequently, I encouraged Mrs. F to keep her red pen out of reach when reading; I wouldn't want her to mess up her monitor. 

 

I have often thought of Mrs. F through the years when writing.  She stressed to us the importance of word choice, or "WC" as she referred to it.  Countless times I saw on my graded papers a red circle or slash with "WC" out to the side.  I don't know that I have ever truly been adept at "WC", but I do try.  Ok, sometimes I try.  Regardless, "WC" has always been funny to me.  "WC", water closet, toilet and from there, I'll spare you.  I think my adolescent humor is best shared between other adolescent 40 year old boys. 

 

Today, The Frame Shop & Gallery took one small step, but it is a giant leap for Ownerkind.  We began the process of implementing a Point of Sale system, Lifesaver, that will provide us the ability to process sales, institute an inventory control system, and place orders with our suppliers!  Replacing a system that has been used for 33 years is no small feat, but we are going to move forward undaunted by the enormity task at hand.  This is the dawning of the age of Lifesaver at The Frame Shop & Gallery, and I am happy to be part of the sunrise.

When Life Gives You Lemons, Frame Them!

I began my day yesterday determined 1) I was not going to lose any appendages and 2) that when I left the shop I would be able to measure and cut moulding, join it, measure and cut mat and glass and fit them all together in a final product.  And that's just exactly what I did. 

First off, I am typing with all 10 digits.  I was not the victim of chopper molestation, thankfully.  Every time I put a piece of moulding on the beast, I thought "don't put your fingers by the blades, don't put your fingers by the blades", in a Rainman-esque fashion but without all the nodding.  I listened to myself, and all turned out well for my hands. 

The first frame I made was crooked, and that is a kind description.  I forced it together.  It looked entirely pathetic.  I couldn't show it to Owner because it was too awful.  That said, I didn't throw it away.  In fact, I intend to keep it on my desk as a reminder of where I started.  Perhaps it can be a sort of talisman for good framing.  For a bit I studied the sad little lopsided frame for clues on where I went wrong, what I could do to improve.  I made mental notes that went something like this:  learn how to use a ruler!  Measure twice, cut once.  It's embarrassing to admit, I think I measured about five times, and I still got it wrong.  Oh well, it is practice, right? 

For my second attempt at frame-making, I chose a different moulding from the stash of rejects Owner had set out for my practice.  This time I measured and cut properly.  Relief.  It was the joining of the pieces where I went awry.  In the joining process the moulding is held together at the corners via an underpinning method.  Important Note:  One cannot see where the pin is going in on the moulding since it is, you got it, underpinned.  Now that seems fairly obvious and simple, I agree; however, I managed to, not once, not twice, BUT three times completely miss the moulding when trying to join it.  The concept of "under" seemed to be foreign to me.  On the fourth attempt, I was golden.  After a slow start (read slow as in pace of the work and operation of the brain) I pinned three corners in a flash like I had been doing this my whole life.  But as is often the case for those who get a little too big for their britches a little too quickly, on corner four I blew it.  I was crusin along, feeling all good and thinking, "yep, I've got this, I'm just bangin out some frames.  Pretty much frame-maker", and then it happened.  Erupting through the moulding came one of the joining pins.  Yes, it popped right out on top for the world to see.  Frame ruined or rurnt if you prefer.

By frame three, I really did have it down.  I cut it, joined it and cleaned it up, and that frame went on the sale table.  Naturally, I thought it should be about a $100 item because, well, it was my first good frame and it was gold, so you can imagine my surprise when Owner wrote a big red $9 on the back, and it's half-off of that.  Ok, I knew it wasn't a $100 frame since it was 5"x5", but a guy can dream.

I continued the day waiting on customers, taking orders, doing the regular FramerGuy stuff and I was making frames when I had the time.  After we closed, I was ready to see if I could do it all, start to finish.  I picked an item to frame, selected a mat, decided on a frame and set to work.  While I still have a bit of anxiety about being becoming an expert framer, I feel encouraged.  One day after deciding that I had to get this figured out, I did it.  So here it is, my first framed piece which I did in the words of Eric Carmen, "all by myself".  Not bad lemonade from where I'm sitting.        


The would not be amputee

The backroom/"attic" is cleaned up and the SALE is on.  Everything seems to be moving smoothly except for one more snag in the framing school saga.  I was informed yesterday there is no more room at the Denver framing school inn, which I had finally decided I would attend.  Despite my valiant attempt at persuasion (i.e. begging) and my willingness to accept even second-rate placement, I remain without a framer's school.  After that discovery, Owner and I had a quick chat about exactly what it is I need to be able to do frame-making-wise.  Somewhere in my head the gears shifted.  This has to get fixed, and it has to get fixed now.  I've tried to get into a framing school, and it hasn't worked, so it's time for me to take the bull by the horns or the moulding by the rabbet to put it in framing jargon.  I'm going to have to make it happen, and make it happen I will.  Owner has showed me the basics of measuring for and cutting a mat, how to join a frame, how to cut moulding and fit the frame with picture, mat and glazing.  Now, I have to perfect the skills.  Practice, practice practice!  Owner set out several mouldings on which I can practice, and I hope not to lose any digits in the process.  I'm crossing my fingers while I still have them.   

The Chopper!
Its blades are concealed
by plexi panels an allusion to safety.
I am not fooled.

The moulding cutter or CHOPPER is a terrifying beast with a mouth bearing two 6" long incisors ready to slice through whatever finds its way to its trap.  Literally these two teeth are giant razor blades that could quite easily sever a finger from a hand.  It would be a very nice 45 degree angle cut, but I hardly think that is a consolation for the loss of a body part.

One might have picked up on the fact that I have a little trepidation and anxiety about the chopper.  My concerns are twofold:  1) don't want to cut off a finger and 2) don't want to make bad cuts.  Losing a finger is just bad, period.  But think of  losing the ability to use the international symbol of disapproval!  That can be so handy in traffic.  Bad cuts mean joining is sloppy if even it is possible which means I should have just lit some cash on fire.  I think I can get through it.  After all since I don't have a framing school to go to yet, I have to get this all figured out.  The need to be TCB is high.  I feel certain I will have to be wearing a doo rag. 

I think I'll be pretty good at joining the frames since it requires a good deal of precision.  Plus, I really like things that fit together correctly.  I feel confident about mat cutting and the final fitting.  Cutting the glass doesn't scare me like it did now that the big cutter is operational.  We shall see how things progress, but I am hopeful about a good outcome. 

Owner doesn't think she is a very good teacher, but I disagree.  She doesn't beat the issues to death, and she is happy to set me out on my own to figure it out, which I prefer.  I have always far preferred learning by doing with a modicum of instruction.  I can always ask questions, and I am not working on anything to start with that a customer will ever see.   All-in-all, I'm feeling pretty good about how things are moving along.  So with that, I am headed to the shop where I hope we sell lots of frames and mats in the sale, and I hope I come home with all digits undisturbed! 

Thinkin 'bout the good stuff!

Last week I got to meet a young woman who made me think about all that's good in this world.  So often it seems we/I focus on the failures of our society.  When I think that 1 in 8 families in the US is dealing with hunger, I'm well aware something is definitely out of kilter, and there is much work to do; however, from time-to-time, I think the human psyche, individually and collectively, needs some motivation, a pat on the back, an "atta boy or girl".  I know mine sure does.  It's easy to see so many things around us that need to be made better. The ever-present need for instant gratification, makes it difficult to perceive "the arc of the moral universe" and its bent toward justice, and we, I, need a reminder of its course.  I want to take this moment to tell you about some of the good in this world.

Nichole Ledford is the first owner of a Habitat for Humanity home in Pope County.  I had heard about Nichole, but I had not met her.  Habitat as a movement has always made good sense to me.  Meeting Nichole only confirmed my belief in the organization.  Nichole is a single mother of 4 children, the oldest of whom is 10.  Shortly after being widowed the family's home was destroyed by a fire.  Nichole applied to Habitat and was chosen.  Together, they built a house, and now she has set about the business of making it a home for her family. 

Nichole came in the shop last week to pick out some art for the new house.  As she perused the prints, many of which were Arkansas scenes, she was naming the locations.  She was recalling briefly times past when she had been camping at such-and-such with so-and-so.  She was remembering happy days.  That made me smile with and for her, well and for me too because I was getting to witness it.  What I loved most about her was the sense of hope she exuded.  Here was a woman looking toward her future full-on when by all rights she could easily have been chained to her past.  That's impressive.  She found her print, mat and frame, and as Owner was getting all that together, Nichole and I began to visit.  We talked about the work of building the house, how she had done more things than she could have ever imagined.  She never saw herself hanging drywall or laying tile, but the pride and gratefulness in her speech and on her face made me think, "this is good.  really, really good". 

Having met Nichole, hearing her story, learning of her determination to move forward made me just plain feel good deep in my bones.  I was proud of the community where I live.  I was heartened to know that we can make a difference; we DO make a difference for good and justice in this world, and what a difference it can be.  I was super happy that she found a piece of art that made her happy, and that would help make her new house become her new home. 

Learn more about Habitat For Humanity here:  http://www.habitat.org

The 3 "R's": Retail, Recycling & ReUsing

We are having a “attic” sale, in case you haven’t heard, beginning on Sept 17.  I have been charged with getting the attic (storeroom area with a teeny tiny attic space) ready for the sale.  It’s mostly a job of organization, and I'm kind of into that.  OK, who am I kidding?  OCD me is so excited he might pee his pants!  It's like a theme park thrill ride for OCD me.  Imagine all that clearing out, cleaning up, labeling bins and shelves!  Seriously, that is living the dream: a place for everything and everything in its place.   
Since I began working at The Frame Shop & Gallery, I have been aware that Owner is a re-user and a re-purposer of things.  It's a good quality especially in a businessperson.  It was not an oddity to me to discover Owner is a re-purposer because my dad was as well.  She has repurposed many items especially for the storage of scrap moulding.
While working on the attic, I couldn’t help but be reminded of my dad when I saw several big, old, metal coffee cans erupting with some leftover mouldings.  You see, my dad saved a lot of stuff. He saved plastic milk jugs out of which he could make ice blocks for the ice chest or he would fill them with concrete to use as anchors. He saved coffee cans, lots of them, which, in the words of Pooh, can be "a useful pot to put things in". I think he saved every Styrofoam coffee cup he ever got, and he did reuse them sometimes for coffee or to sprout seeds to be transplanted to the garden. He saved pieces of packing Styrofoam to make "corks" (bobbers) to use when fishing.  He was the king of repurposing items, and as such we, his children, often laughingly and lovingly refer to him as "the original recycler". If he could conceive of a way to make an item serve a new purpose, whether that ever came to fruition or not, he saved it.  Were you to open his trunk or look in the bed his truck, you would find any number of things he had saved because he could use it for fill-in-the-blank someday.  Someday rarely comes when you have too much saved stuff as in 143 styrofoam coffee cups.  At some point, it really does just become junk. 

God bless my mother.   

Owner, like my dad, can find a use for almost anything others would likely discard without a second thought. As it happens, I have a bit of the same bent. I wash and reuse Ziploc bags unless they've had onions in them; you will never get that smell out.  I save bubble wrap.  I have actually saved Styrofoam which I reused when packing for my last move.  Don’t misunderstand:  While I appreciate the art of reusing, and I engage in it from time-to-time, I also am a fan of getting rid of extraneous stuff.  My sister might disagree after having seen my garage, but in my defense, there is only so much stuff one can cram in the trash (or recycling bin), and I didn’t have a truck to haul it off.  Regardless, reusing a few milk jugs is one thing, but having a stash of say 10 or 15 is unnecessary.  How many anchors does one man really need?  There’s a fine line between saving for reuse and an audition for “Hoarders”.  Thankfully, Owner doesn’t seem to have my father’s affliction of over-saving everything; we are cleaning house!  Out with the old and in with the new!

Now, I’m off to the shop to make ready the “attic”.  I hope I get to see some of you during the sale.  We have much to offer, and the prices just can’t be beat!  33 Year Attic Sale – Sept 17-22.