Handcut Lap Joint

Cutting lap joints by hand takes a little while if you are as slow as I am. To cut just one half of a lap joint took me....well, let's just say that if I were to charge $30/hour for my time, this joint alone would cost $5 million.

There are a number of ways to cut this joint, and other ways to speed up the process, but here is one way to do it:

Layout the cut with a bevel-edged pencil, marking knife or exacto blade. Use a chisel to define the shoulder. Handsaw kerfs within the waste area. The more kerfs you saw, the easier it is to chip out the waste. My kerf marks are rather far apart because I get tired pretty quickly with handsawing. Use a beefy chisel to chip out the majority of waste then clean up the bed with a router plane or paring chisel. Because this is a wide lap joint, remove the waste from only half of the joint at a time and leave a section of wood in the middle to support your router plane as you clean up the bed. Remove the center waste section with a chisel and/or plane.

Now it's onto the next one!

In Defense of Cheap Tools

As I continued to remove the bandsaw marks on the sawbuck table legs, I reached for a chisel to clean up the deepest crease in the profile. But not just any chisel. My FIRST chisel.

It was purchased 16 years ago at a big box store for a few bucks—ugly, yellow, too-short plastic handle and all. I knew almost nothing about woodworking back then and had no idea what made one chisel better than another. I just knew I could afford this one and hey, it has a cutting edge, doesn’t it?

16 years later, this 3/4” Stanley Workmaster® proudly occupies the #1 slot in my chisel rack. It might not hold an edge as long as my Japanese chisels or be as pretty and as well-balanced as my German chisels, but it’s a real workhorse, sharpens quickly and cuts cleanly. And it reminds me that I don’t have to buy the most expensive tools to get good results.

Bottom right is a photo of the first plane, block or otherwise, I ever purchased. I think it cost $10 at the big box store. Knowing nothing about planes at the time, I bought it thinking hey, it has a cutting edge, doesn't it?

It took me a while to learn how to sharpen it properly, but it does indeed cut.

A few years ago, our woodworking club hosted a used tool sale where I offered to the sell this plane for $2. No takers.

And lucky for me! I brought it home and, not having used it in years, took a swipe on some wood. Nice clean shaving. The mouth is fixed too wide for a fine, thin shaving, but still, it cuts perfectly.

So, how do I employ this plane? It accompanies me every time I visit MLFKAG (My Lumberyard Formerly Known As Garage) which houses stacks of rough cut lumber that I bought at various auctions. Often the wood is so rough or so old, I can’t tell what species it is. A few passes, and the plane quickly exposes the grain beneath the rough surface. I’ll never try to sell you again, little guy.

Mind the Arc

I built this cabinet in 2005, and last year I noticed that the gap in between the two doors was no longer as even as they had been (they were never perfect, but close). The top of the gap was a little thinner than the bottom. Or so it seemed. I ignored it at first, chalking it up to sloppy construction. But it got worse. After a few days, the gap at the top was less than a 1/8" and the gap at the bottom was 3/8".

(insert little girl scream)

Here's what happened. When I built the carcase, I didn't pay attention to the arc of the endgrain. The second photo, taken from beneath the cabinet, shows the endgrain (on the tails). You can see that the crown of the arc is arching away from the carcase . What happens with a flatsawn board like this is the grain essentially wants to straighten itself out. So, the last tail in between the carcase and the door started to pull away from the last pin, effectively taking the bottom of the door with it. What I thought was an indestructible joint was failing...badly.

So I added glue, clamped it up, and drove a screw through the pin.

A better way to build a carcase or box is to orient the crown of the arcs toward the box. So, when the grain tries to straighten itself out, the pressure will be into rather than away from the joints.

I haven't had the nerve to check the other side of the carcase, but if it does happen to the other board, I'll know not to hyperventilate.

Shaping the Legs

To shape the legs for the sawbuck table, I first traced the profile onto the leg blanks using the cardboard template. Then I transferred the profile to the other side of the leg. With the profile marked on both sides, you can check back and forth as you're shaping to ensure that the profile is square.









I roughed out the shape on the band saw and then cleaned up the cuts with round files, triangular files, smooth files, a Nicholson #50 rasp, a Lee Valley rounded spokeshave, and sandpaper.

The shaped leg in the last photo is sitting on top of what's left of the cherry that is being used to make this project.

Sawbuck Table: Part I

In my shop, a 9/4 x 12" x 11' piece of curly cherry has been patiently waiting to become a PA German Sawbuck Table, like the one I found at the Landis Valley Museum. I was not able to photograph the original very well because it was behind glass, but the photos still came in handy. From a page in a book, I knew the height, width, and length of the original. And from the front-on shot that I took, I figured out rough dimensions for the various parts with the help of a proportion wheel.

This project involves fun little details, like sliding dovetails, tusk tenons, an angled drawer, lettercarving, turned spindles, and baroque sawbuck legs.

Trying to determine the angle of the legs was a monumental dilemma for a right-brained person who wouldn't know the Pythagorean Theorem from a Pierogie. So, here's what I did—I laid tape on the floor and marked corners of a rectangle that matched the height and width of the table (minus the table top). Then I criss-crossed two pieces of 5" wide cardboard within, but longer than, that rectangle; laid a straight edge from one top corner of the rectangle to the other top corner; and drew a line across the tops of the cardboard. Then I did the same at the bottom of the rectangle. This gave me the angles at which the legs needed to be cut. I eyeballed the baroque shape from the photos, sketched it freehand, and cut the pattern.

After all four legs were cut to length, I had to figure out where to cut the half lap. The cardboard template wasn't reliable enough for marking the critical joint. So, I clamped two legs together, marked the middle, drilled a hole through the top leg and half way through the second leg, pegged them with a dowel, and scissored them apart. Now I had to figure out how far apart to splay them so that the legs would support the table top and also rest squarely on the floor. So I clamped a straight board to my assembly table (representing the table top), slid the legs against it until both ends laid flat against the board, then slid another flat board against the opposite ends of the legs (representing the floor). This showed exactly where to mark the half laps.

There you have it—the right-brained person's guide to figuring out angles.

My New Workbench

No doubt Chris Schwarz will want to include plans for this natural-edged workbench in the updated, revised version of his book, Workbenches: From Design & Theory to Construction & Use.*

In the interim, here are detailed instructions on how to build one:

1. Keep an eye on the neighbor lady’s tree that’s about to be toppled.
2. After the tree has been felled and sawn, casually walk your dogs by her house to inspect the logs.
3. Just “happen by” as her strapping young son-in-law is chopping up the logs for firewood and inquire about the largest part of the trunk.
4. Be nice, and the strapping young son-in-law just might wheel your new workbench home for you on a dolly.

Why the new workbench? Because I found Robin Wood’s website. Robin is a woodturner and maker of treenware. On his site, he posts video tutorials on how he makes his spoons, while sitting in his living room, and using a tree stump as a work surface. What fun! To start with a log, use an axe to rough out the shape, and finish with carving tools and knives is something I’ve always wanted to try.

I have only made one kitchen utensil, a pasta rake, which works surprisingly well. It’s made of cherry and is finished with olive oil. There is something “right” about using wooden utensils and I can’t wait to use my new workbench to make more. I just need to find another neighbor who is planning to cut down a tree so I can “happen upon” some logs.

*If you have not read Chris’ book and are thinking of building a new or upgrading an existing workbench (or are just looking for a fantastic read), do yourself a favor and purchase a copy. His book is replete with valuable information on building workbenches, choosing lumber, making bench jigs, and the whys and hows that aren’t found in other workbench books.

Safety First!

Marc Spagnuolo, The Wood Whisperer, has named this Woodworkers’ Safety Week.

And with good reason. How many of us still have all 10 digits, don’t continually have to ask people to repeat themselves, and don’t have a woodworking battle scar or two?

I’m guilty of the second one, but that’s due to too many Pat Benatar concerts in high school.

For the female woodworkers who read this blog....you’re already wearing your safety gear so feel free to skip this post and head back to the shop.

Two things are for sure: 1) woodworking is dangerous with both hand and power tools, and 2) guys love to outdo one another with “near-miss” or “how I lost my (fill in missing body part)” stories.

Being safe in the shop doesn’t mean you aren’t cool, aren’t manly, or won’t have riveting stories to share. What it does mean is the following:

VC’s Top Ten Reasons to Practice Safety in the Shop:

10. You can wave good-bye and people won’t think you’re making a rude gesture at them.
9. You can count to 10 without removing your shoes.
8. You won’t have to quit your bowling league. (Of course, there's always duckpin bowling.)
7. You can still type on a keyboard without having to hunt and peck. (Provided you know how to type in the first place. If not, proceed to number 6).
6. You can hear your granddaughter when she says she loves you. (awwww!)
5. You can hear your wife when she says “Honey, you’ve had a hard week. Why not spend some time in your shop?”
4. You won’t have to explain to the emergency room nurses why you have a spear of curly maple protruding from your belly button.
3. You won’t soil your drawers from kick back.
2. You can still dream of becoming a hand model.
and the number one reason to be safe in the shop....

1.You won't have to listen to your wife complain about you not being safe in the shop!

There’s nothing dorky about being safe.

Wear your safety goggles & hearing protection, use push sticks and the safety features that come with your tools, and don’t stick anything in the blade that you don’t want chopped off.

Happy Woodworkers’ Safety Week!

Workshop for Lilliputians

June marks the 4th anniversary of the completion of my new workshop. Prior to that, I worked in a basement shop with concrete floors, 6 foot ceilings, exposed lightbulbs, and exposed knob & tube wiring. Dungeon-like.

Yet it was still my favorite place in the house.

I dreamed for 10 years of having an above-ground shop and when I finally decided to have one built, I spent a full year researching heating systems, insulation, material, lighting....everything.

I even built a to-scale model of the shop, complete with all my equipment, just to make sure that everything would fit and that I would be able to tell my builder where to put the outlets. I determined where to put the 18" bandsaw in relation to the back window, so that long boards could stick outside and rest on the sill while I ran them through the blade. The model also helped my builder work up pricing.

The first design had a second story and a finishing room closed off by a sliding door. After my builder told me how much it would cost, reality set in, and both those luxuries were crossed off the list.

The model itself was built hurriedly—just plywood tacked together with brads—but it helped immeasurably when I was able to tell my builder where to put my 300 pound band saw and 400 pound table saw, as he and his helper carried them out of my basement shop and into the new one. They were able to plop them down exactly where I wanted them. I doubt they would have appreciated some lady telling them to "Move the table saw to this wall. Nah, that's not right—move it to that wall instead. A little to the left, no right."

The next sound I would have heard would have been my contractor and his helper slamming the door shut behind them, leaving a trail of expletives in their wake.

Planning for and designing my shop was an exciting journey, and I ended up with a cute little woodworker's dollhouse in the process.