Woody Prayers and Pleadings

In the name of the saw blade, the the screwdriver and the holy drill bit...

There's no greater frustration than wanting to be out in my semi-organized garage on the middle day of a long weekend generating copious amounts of sawdust and being less-than-free to do so.

The day absolutely cries out for it. My spirit longs to hear the soothing whine and screech of wood as it shatters the silence of a complacent suburbia. Yea, though it is lovingly sawn and ripped apart by a sharp blade, attached to a high-powered motor, I remain faithful to you, my Gods and Goddesses, as I ignore the temptations of the heathens and the infidels who tempt me with other offerings if I would only close that damned garage door...

I faithfully make my novenas and hosannas to you...silently chanting to my favourite deities of the craft...Ryobi, Japanese goddess of the table saw, drill press and belt sander...Delta, the greek god of the band saw and compound mitre saw...DeWalt, pagan Frankish god of the hand router and drill/driver...not forgetting the lesser, faceless demi-gods of the circular saw with laser, 1/2" router and the 1/4" router and router table...

My soul needs to be sated with the benevolent work of creating something in your name from multi-layered, laminated cellulose. These offerings sit below the altar of my workbench...un-blessed...un-used...un-cut?? I am shamed at my sins.

Why am I denied this simplest of pleasures?

I mean, is the worship of this pantheon of sawdust such a crime? Am I in some kind of tortured hell? Will all of Dante's woodworking demons torment me mercilessly with visions of nefariously clever projects in progress, knowing that I am shackled to the wall of festive and mechanical reality? I beseech you, mighty gods and goddesses...I have studied relevant passages of scripture from ShopNotes 12:77, Canadian Home Workshop 3:12, and all the lessons in Bob Vila's letters to the Philistines at PBS. Your Prophets like Norm Abrams and the Apostles on This Old House have been particularly inspirational of late.

Oh, the humanity!

Dude! What the hell are you talking about, are you, like, in jail or something? Is there an emergency?

No! My fucking band saw is broken!!

One tiny little part is holding me back, Gods and Goddesses. I mean, I suppose I *could* run the saw without the liner on the upper wheel, but I'd rather not chance it. Would I offend thee by such apostacy? One stupid little piece of nylon/plastic that sits on the wheel split at some point, rendering the whole thing useless. Of course, I figured that a little piece of plastic would be cheap. Um, no. The price for that "tire"? $44 CDN. Jeebus... HERESY!! And, yea, even though I have prayed ferverently at your taberbnacle at the Home Depot, my prayers went unfulfilled. Only a divine intervention would cure what ailed me, their priests said.

Now, Gods and Goddesses, I do have some other tools I could use and I suppose I could maybe work some other wood I have lying around (stacked in a pleasing fashion) by building a prototype of the second generation hockey equipment stand that your unworthy, The Nature Boy, and I were talking about. I mean, he'd make that icon part of his own altar to worship and appreciate your glory! He even thinks such an icon would help to spread your word in that fertile land of the American Mid-West. He seems to think people already know something about wood down there. How could you deny me?

So, is it too much to ask that you send down some kind of thunderbolt/thundersplinter and let the Delta Service Center in Pickering be open today? Please? PLEASE??? I promise to build a shrine worthy of your worship if you grant me that favour. I really really really really really really really really really really really really wanted my band saw this weekend.

This must be some kind of test. May you find me worthy of this challenge.

For ever and ever,

Amen