(no subject)
Oct. 24th, 2004 08:52 pmI had a busy, educational, productive weekend, so sparse updates. Sorry about that. Saturday morning I did unexciting horse things, nothing much of note. After that, I went home where Dad was sawing up wood for my cousin Sandra, who had brought up a bunch of city people to help her with that. They'd asked to borrow a saw, but Dad allowed as how he thought that would only end in tears -- it'd be easier and more efficient to just saw the wood himself. Gotta say, I agreed with him on that.
Anyway, they were doing that when I got back from horse morning. Dad was cutting wood on the downhill side of the truck because he figured they had plenty of people to schlep and they, unlike me, would probably not whine like hell that the truck was "uphill". Being all neighborly and shit, I asked San if I should pop by with my wedges and maul to help them split the stuff so it would fit in her woodstove. She said that'd be all right, so I did that, stopping to hammer some gorgeous tulip poplar (green -- the tree came down during Ivan) trunk pieces into quarters while the guys stood far away and looked awed. *grin*. Green, straight-grained trunk pieces of tulip poplar can make almost anyone look good...
I did not schlep wood uphill to the truck because that is not something I will do for any cousin. I won't do that for my own heat, damn it. Too much like work, that is. After the truck was full, Sandra, Sarah (George's girlfriend.) and I stayed at San's house with the first load of wood to split and stack while the guys got the second load. I had all but three pieces of the first load split (and the girls had stacked everything that was split) when they got back with the second load. Boo-yah! They were in awe of our efficiency. San apparently hadn't planned on splitting any of it this weekend. Go figure...
When the guys got back, Carl (or perhaps Karl, not sure how it's spelled) asked if he could give it a go. After asking if he'd brought his own toy, I gave over mine and let him take a crack at it. To say that he sucked would leave me lacking a descriptive term for how the rest of 'em... but I'm getting ahead of myself. (Their lack of skill should not be a surprise -- they are urban folk who, at best, have only ever done minimal amounts of wood splitting. I did not expect them to be really good at it.) So I was like "No, no, no, that will never do. You're going about it all wrong." (I've met C/Karl before and he's a pretty laid-back guy, not the sort to get all testosterone-ish about this, particularly not when he's spent the last half hour watching me tear through wood like a hot knife through butter.) So I laid out the basics for C/Karl and coached him through a few pieces and damned if his one-hit-split percentage didn't go right through the damn roof. He was grinning and all "Yeah, that's like *thwack* a thousand times better. *thwack* Damn. *thwack* Thanks. *thwack* This is great." He was splitting happily and I was drinking my water and everyone else was stacking the split wood (Stacking wood is not something I like doing if other people are also participating. They don't do it like me and my frustration level goes through the roof.), when George came over and was like "Hey, teach me next." I felt very Tom Saywer. So I gave George my crash course in "Split wood like the pros" and he was there grinning and *thack*ing away with great success and I hung out with my water and watched. Yep, I could get used to this. So then Sarah (George's girlfriend, not a relative. I have many relatives (5) named Sarah but she wasn't one of those.) asked if she could have a go. Sure, I'm an equal-opportunity instructor. Sarah was a little shorter than I am and lighter by probably thirty pounds, had probably never swung a maul in her life before this (the guys had, just without clue), but she gave a very solid effort once she got the hang of the swinging thing. So that was all good and everybody felt like it was a successful day. (Sarah was like "You should give classes on this..." but I think she was just being nice.)
Split wood like the pros:
1. Aim towards the "rind" of the wood. Do not hit dead center on the log. That's wrong. I KNOW most people do it that way, but that's because they are wrong. Do not do it that way. Hit near the rind. It's about 60% easier than hitting in the center.
2. When picking an initial spot to aim, observe grain (avoid knots, put them 90 degrees orthogonal if possible) and pick an check (tiny radial crack or split) that you want to aim at. Split from the "bottom" of the log towards the "top" of the log. ("Bottom" and "top" refer to how the tree was growing when it was alive.) Look for where the wood *wants* to split and pay attention to the center. Don't just whale away without a plan.
3. Aim is more important than force. Some force is important, but aiming is MORE important. Be able to hit where you are aiming and be able to hit the same spot two, three times running.
4. Control is more important than force. Do not let the maul twist or flop when striking.
5. Always, always, always keep your feet out of flight path. Take rings off first, and wear gloves. Gloves are not "for sissies". Gloves are for sensible people.
6. Drop your hips/body when the maul hits. This feels like being all centered and stuff during punches in martial arts. You can also think of it as concentrating your chi if that helps you strike with authority and commit to your swing.
7. Don't rush your swings. The wood will not run away while you're aiming.
After the wood adventure, I went home and made pie. It was an apple pie, using the apples I mentioned earlier this week. I took the pie to San's house for dessert, which she'd said would be okay. (I checked first because I hate having an entire pie in my house. I will eat the whole damn thing myself if that happens, so I try pretty hard to find a home for the pie before I make it.) They ate the pie. They said nice things about the pie. It was one of my better efforts, and I was well pleased on that front. Even those who had mocked, mocked the pie ritual business were suitably awed with the finished product to somewhat abashedly retract their earlier mocking. After some socializing, I went home and then to bed.
Sunday I didn't do horses because it was raining. Instead, I bought a new shower curtain and made corned beef and cabbage for La's people.
Anyway, they were doing that when I got back from horse morning. Dad was cutting wood on the downhill side of the truck because he figured they had plenty of people to schlep and they, unlike me, would probably not whine like hell that the truck was "uphill". Being all neighborly and shit, I asked San if I should pop by with my wedges and maul to help them split the stuff so it would fit in her woodstove. She said that'd be all right, so I did that, stopping to hammer some gorgeous tulip poplar (green -- the tree came down during Ivan) trunk pieces into quarters while the guys stood far away and looked awed. *grin*. Green, straight-grained trunk pieces of tulip poplar can make almost anyone look good...
I did not schlep wood uphill to the truck because that is not something I will do for any cousin. I won't do that for my own heat, damn it. Too much like work, that is. After the truck was full, Sandra, Sarah (George's girlfriend.) and I stayed at San's house with the first load of wood to split and stack while the guys got the second load. I had all but three pieces of the first load split (and the girls had stacked everything that was split) when they got back with the second load. Boo-yah! They were in awe of our efficiency. San apparently hadn't planned on splitting any of it this weekend. Go figure...
When the guys got back, Carl (or perhaps Karl, not sure how it's spelled) asked if he could give it a go. After asking if he'd brought his own toy, I gave over mine and let him take a crack at it. To say that he sucked would leave me lacking a descriptive term for how the rest of 'em... but I'm getting ahead of myself. (Their lack of skill should not be a surprise -- they are urban folk who, at best, have only ever done minimal amounts of wood splitting. I did not expect them to be really good at it.) So I was like "No, no, no, that will never do. You're going about it all wrong." (I've met C/Karl before and he's a pretty laid-back guy, not the sort to get all testosterone-ish about this, particularly not when he's spent the last half hour watching me tear through wood like a hot knife through butter.) So I laid out the basics for C/Karl and coached him through a few pieces and damned if his one-hit-split percentage didn't go right through the damn roof. He was grinning and all "Yeah, that's like *thwack* a thousand times better. *thwack* Damn. *thwack* Thanks. *thwack* This is great." He was splitting happily and I was drinking my water and everyone else was stacking the split wood (Stacking wood is not something I like doing if other people are also participating. They don't do it like me and my frustration level goes through the roof.), when George came over and was like "Hey, teach me next." I felt very Tom Saywer. So I gave George my crash course in "Split wood like the pros" and he was there grinning and *thack*ing away with great success and I hung out with my water and watched. Yep, I could get used to this. So then Sarah (George's girlfriend, not a relative. I have many relatives (5) named Sarah but she wasn't one of those.) asked if she could have a go. Sure, I'm an equal-opportunity instructor. Sarah was a little shorter than I am and lighter by probably thirty pounds, had probably never swung a maul in her life before this (the guys had, just without clue), but she gave a very solid effort once she got the hang of the swinging thing. So that was all good and everybody felt like it was a successful day. (Sarah was like "You should give classes on this..." but I think she was just being nice.)
Split wood like the pros:
1. Aim towards the "rind" of the wood. Do not hit dead center on the log. That's wrong. I KNOW most people do it that way, but that's because they are wrong. Do not do it that way. Hit near the rind. It's about 60% easier than hitting in the center.
2. When picking an initial spot to aim, observe grain (avoid knots, put them 90 degrees orthogonal if possible) and pick an check (tiny radial crack or split) that you want to aim at. Split from the "bottom" of the log towards the "top" of the log. ("Bottom" and "top" refer to how the tree was growing when it was alive.) Look for where the wood *wants* to split and pay attention to the center. Don't just whale away without a plan.
3. Aim is more important than force. Some force is important, but aiming is MORE important. Be able to hit where you are aiming and be able to hit the same spot two, three times running.
4. Control is more important than force. Do not let the maul twist or flop when striking.
5. Always, always, always keep your feet out of flight path. Take rings off first, and wear gloves. Gloves are not "for sissies". Gloves are for sensible people.
6. Drop your hips/body when the maul hits. This feels like being all centered and stuff during punches in martial arts. You can also think of it as concentrating your chi if that helps you strike with authority and commit to your swing.
7. Don't rush your swings. The wood will not run away while you're aiming.
After the wood adventure, I went home and made pie. It was an apple pie, using the apples I mentioned earlier this week. I took the pie to San's house for dessert, which she'd said would be okay. (I checked first because I hate having an entire pie in my house. I will eat the whole damn thing myself if that happens, so I try pretty hard to find a home for the pie before I make it.) They ate the pie. They said nice things about the pie. It was one of my better efforts, and I was well pleased on that front. Even those who had mocked, mocked the pie ritual business were suitably awed with the finished product to somewhat abashedly retract their earlier mocking. After some socializing, I went home and then to bed.
Sunday I didn't do horses because it was raining. Instead, I bought a new shower curtain and made corned beef and cabbage for La's people.