Last weekend I bought my first power tool. (Not counting a Black & Decker drill driver which, lets face it everyone uses.) To some this may raise much alarm. I am the stuff family legend is made of for slicing and dicing myself on any number of household items: graters, scissors, razor blades, mandolins, a lawnmower, even. So what business have I, you might ask, purchasing such a tool given my not-so-stellar safety record?
Welp. I’ve begun to discover that sometimes family legend is just another way of telling ourselves stories that keep us stuck, stories that limit us rather than allow us to expand. And I’m the queen at limiting myself. I don’t have a green thumb. I don’t garden. I don’t paint. I don’t do yard work.
And every. single. one. of those I don’ts are now I do’s and quite successful ones if I do say so myself. My house has more than a few plants scattered around after decades of telling myself I can’t. Herbs and tomatoes now line my freezer in neat little containers, and next year the raspberries I planted last fall will be producing as well. I’ve primed and painted most of the original stained floor and window trim on the first floor. And slowly, but surely, I am re-imagining my backyard–including a rock border for which I’ve scavenged and carried each and every rock.
When I painted that floor trim, I had to switch out the fifty-year-old heat registers and cold air returns. And wouldn’t you know–the new cold air return grills are about 3/8″ too large to fit between the already installed molding. So last year I propped them up against the wall and hoped against hope they wouldn’t fall over. (They did.) I meant to find a handyman to trim the trim, but I am also a first-class procrastinator.
Until I’m not.
I figured if I can measure fabric and lay out a pattern and stitch any number of items–tote bags, aprons, dolls, clothes–how hard can it be to saw off 3/8″? (Yes, I know there’s that business of power tools, but what is a sewing machine if not a sort of power tool?!) Thanks to YouTube I learned I needed an oscillating tool. Like some sort of handyman magic it vibrates a small saw-tooth blade and voila! cuts through trim. Does my work look professional? Nope. In fact, I believe I might have installed the wrong type of vent cover. But I’m okay with that, because the pride I feel is more important to me than finding fault.
And what’s more, I’ll learn.
This is my symphony 