The Wurlitzer Organ - Sampler Mod

   The dust was the craziest I have ever seen, layers as thick as craft felt came up with the vacuum detailer. The Craigslist pictures were horrible and I am guessing this is why there were no takers. It could also be the fact that these old analog gems weigh several hundred pounds, and are awkward to move at best. I committed and hauled away my new grimy prize, an old Wurlitzer organ with a built-in Orbit II synthesizer as a bonus.
   These home entertainment centers were significant investments when they were new, and I worked on the assumption that it had to be serviceable and the workings completely accessible. Once the back and top of the cabinet had been removed, I found tall hex bolts that release the chassis and each level then pivots up like a car hood.
   Soon I was starring at a beautiful array of electronic glory, I would never be able to decode the tangle of multicolored wire harnesses. There are also massive, exposed capacitors on the amp head that scream, "instant death!" I stayed true to the mission, cleaned up the filth and got out of there ASAP. A couple keys were dead, but I was able to repair the broken actuators with toothpicks and super glue.

  
   Now to the meat of this mod, this particular model 4270 also had a built-in tape recorder. Unfortunately the heads were so fouled that it only made horrendous, scratchy blasts through the speakers. At the very least I needed to disconnect this unit to keep my kids from driving me nuts. As you may know, little boys love this sort of loud nuisance to rankle their parents.
   With all the layers opened up before me, I was further intrigued to see the internal sound ran through RCA inputs on the amplifier. My subconscious went to work and I soon came up with an interesting idea for a swap out. I was able to try several effects pedals patched in line to the amp. There were many options at this point, but I kept coming back to an old Boss SP-202 sampler laying around unused. I also noticed the tape deck had a similar foot print as the sampler, and there was room for a power supply to run off the internal outlet. With minimal work, I got the old Dr. Sample to fit and run cleanly into the amp.
   Now the kids' favorite part is to make loops and other goofy sounds with their Wurly. In a modern twist, the sound signal runs through the sampler, much in the same way as the original tape deck functioned. The exploratory cleaning also revealed a headphone jack on the underside of the keybed. This allows me to run a standard cable to my guitar rig for loads of additional hijinks. As unwieldy as these instruments are, they still deserve our attention and the respect of a proper home.

Basement Skatepark

   There was a tough decision to be made when we moved from Montana back to Ohio. What to do with my beloved, garage mini ramp? After some half-hearted attempts at selling it, I could not bear the thought of leaving it behind. Although we did not know what sort of house we would end up with, I hoped for the best and paid for the extra space on the moving truck. Unfortunately after all the effort, our new garage just could not house the beast and even after trying to alter the geometry, it just would not work.
   Right before winter I disassembled my good friend and stored the wood in our unfinished basement. My two sons are just starting to pickup skating and I wanted to give them something that I could have only dreamed of as a teenager. A place to grow their skills and skate year-round in any type of weather. Our closest park is about twenty minutes away, forty-five round trip, which doesn't cut it on busy Dad days. So, I set to work using the materials on hand and a new course layout for the L-shaped space.
   Their stature makes smaller ramps perfect for them, I however want to skate too, so it took some deep mental negotiations to arrive at the best compromise considering the 8' ceiling height. I decided to go with 2' height for the quarters with 6' radius transitions. Still peppy enough to have fun and fly around the small park. I even consulted a professional ramp builder that suggested I could go even higher because of a skater's tucked riding position on tranny, but I did not like the idea of not being able to fully stand up on the quarter pipe decks.

   After completing the two bookend ramps, I still had a large pile of leftover scraps. I built a wallride for me with a very tight 3' radius. The floor joists drop to 7' clearance in this section, so I wanted an obstacle to absorb energy while still being a fun way to route yourself back to the main park. This left me with just enough wood to finish a pump ramp for the center of the long side. I decided to mimic a heaved sidewalk with a round top, an obstacle I had wanted to build for awhile.  
   As sad as it was to toss the old transition templates, I see the beauty in the new park. The masonite, plywood, lumber, and steel coping are now a part of the fifth build using these materials. For this reason, the park shall be named "MARK V" in honor of their legacy and design evolution. The skatepark has proven to be a much better use of space than the sad pool table that was left behind, and a great way to wear the kids out on a rainy day.

Rainbow Playset - Replacement Canopy

   We acquired our Rainbow Clubhouse III playset through our most recent real estate transaction. The set is really showing its age, but the upside is these are the best built residential swing sets on the planet and will eventually be passed on to another family after ours.

    I remembered these beefy, redwood clubhouses from when I was a kid and always wanted one. As with all Manic Maker projects, the clubhouse needed some updates and TLC. I assessed what we had, and what we really needed. We had just moved a much smaller A-frame swing set with us across country, so I had extra lumber and parts to make any necessary alterations.
   This set in particular had a lot of extras that increased its footprint, but also added to my weekly yard maintenance. So after some familial negotiations, we nixed the monkey bars-to-nowhere and added a third swing in exchange. The bottom of the clubhouse was also unfinished which led to a rat's nest of weeds and detritus. I built a stage platform over this section and eliminated the need for extra weed trimming.
   The ropes were all rotten from sun exposure and the elements. I opted to add climbing rocks to make up for this loss on the rock wall. We replaced the mildew stained rubber grips with plastic handles and tightened up all the hardware.
   In another stroke of genius, I removed the hazed acrylic lenses from the periscope and binoculars. So now these items no longer collect rainwater and gnats. This left me with the last hideous piece of the puzzle, the signature red, yellow, and blue tarp.
   After a decade in the sun, it was now a rainbow of weak pastels and algae stains. There are many aftermarket canopies available, however most of them are too small. I located a PlayStar tarp, but it was still 6 inches short of the original Rainbow canopy. The best solution was to trim the mast to make up the difference. I used clamps to test fit the replacement, and then with circular saw in hand removed 5 inches from the two tallest posts. There is still adequate room for an adult to stand on the top level without ducking and the new green cover blends in better with the wooded surroundings.
  

Black Sabbatical

   Breathe deeply, let the universe pass through you and dissolve into the molecular commonality that defines all creation. The massive, empty space between atoms vibrating, never actually touching. Pierced by a thorn, pain only perception, pause and take account of all that has happened.

 

  

   There is a time for writing and a time for action, right now however, is a hiccup. A violent constriction of my diaphragm, annoying and distracting. I have been an artist and maker all my life, I profoundly understand the cycles of prolificacy. Rarely does a creator crank out goods from birth to death with only a fifteen minute lunch break. I am not talking about writer's block either, I do not believe in it. I do not believe in the "blank canvas" or the "white wall" either. Those are excuses by novice producers that have not observed the natural ebb and flow of life.

   It makes sense to be multi-discipline diversified, my heroes balance multiple trades while holding a bottomless toolkit. I once thought that I had to make a choice and focus my concentration. While it is true that this is the quickest route to mastery, it leaves you feeble in the fields of drought. Switch gears, hell drop it in to four-wheel low and head back to camp. Do you really know where you were headed?

   This is your update, a post written to let you know that I am the Manic Maker, and I am busy. Or should I say biz-aay. A good friend sent a soft jab at me, referencing blogs failing and petering out because of lack of dedication. I am the Manic Maker and I am busy. Too busy in fact, to pass on clever, DIY tips and tricks free of charge. I will get to it later.

   This is my study hall, cramming for the big test. To the handful of dedicated readers, hang in there, Fall is looking good. Half a dozen new posts written, waiting for artwork and final tweaks, there is definitely more to come.

 

 

 

Livin' Large

   After a long sustained pause, forced by unforeseeable circumstances, the real source of trepidation arose. Deep-seated hatred towards vinyl siding and shoddy architecture drew out repressed feelings of anger and betrayal. It is not buyer's remorse, but an internal conflict. Over the last two decades I have railed against McMansions and America's dumb obsession with super-sized homes, and this position has now resulted in my current ethical dilemma.
   We arrived in the Cleveland high on optimism and the promise of better real estate value. We soon found that the online listings grossly misrepresented the condition of countless neglected properties. Within a very short week we knew that we were combing through the dregs of last years' offerings.
   Asbestos, skunks, rotting windows, and broken slabs. Once vital, artsy structures were now a liability to their remaining heirs. I am not naive, I recognize the maintenance arc that most properties commonly follow. As the resident ages, so does the home. Less energy and strength coupled with poor eyesight leads to a Miss Havisham-esque habitation. If caught early enough, the fix is simple, if left for decades, the problems domino and the value plummets.
   Our only choice was to leap decades forward and look to homes that we would have never previously considered. Yes, I am talking about the vinyl clad, infill blight of the McMansion. Not only is the architecture generally mundane, and the heating bills inordinately high, any efficiencies are merely coincidental. With few other options left, I chose hypocrisy over personal beliefs. 
   I recently read that the McMansion building trend died somewhere during the last recession, but this does not mean these homes are going anywhere. In reality, a lot of these homes are going to need serious updates as  they approach midlife. This is just the beginning of a new saga, another test of my abilities. Can the Manic Maker tame one of these beasts into a relevant, dare I say modern structure? Let me lead as I have done before, and demonstrate that it can be executed with thoughtful design and finesse.

Homeowner Without A Home

   Houses become homes when families are added, this notion is often romanticized, but I will take it one step further. Your home is your partner, and you will benefit from the constant upkeep every time a severe storm rolls through, or an energy bill finds your mailbox.
   Let's take this a little further, my last partner was my loyal assistant. Anytime a small repair was warranted, I could lean out the door and grab a tool from my trusty workbench. I took this act for granted and could literally perform it blindfolded. This is one of the many carefree moments I long for.

   This past week I realized that I am mourning the loss of a friend, an 1800 sq. ft. buddy. We had good times together and memories that shall never fade. He was the backbone of this blog, the reason for getting out of bad early to make the most out of a productive day.
   My wife and I brought our babies home to this friend, warm and stable in those rough early months. These same children raced around on tricycles and swung beneath the giant spruce trees. I now recognize that my younger self was fine-tuning future fatherhood skills. Nurturing the neglected soul, breathing life into its vital systems and praying that everything would work out well.
   The accumulation of man hours has paid back dividends of restful, worry-free sleep and days of neighborhood pride. And most recently coming through for us, when we needed our house to sell quickly in order to prepare for a massive, cross country move. There will be plenty of Manic Maker hacks to come, but they will never match the resurrection of  39 Winchester Street.

The Aha Moment

   Sometimes the aha moment is a stroke of genius, other times it is just seeing the same old situation in a whole new light. You know you have had this moment, when you feel a bit fooled by your own blindness and you realize that your perspective has been irreversibly altered. Well, we have had our aha moment with living in Montana. A destabilizing, earthshaking moment, resulting in a sinking feeling that our time has come to move forward and move on.

   We realized that we have been desperately trying to convince ourselves that this place is awesome. We have posted breath-taking photos, extolled the virtues of a simple life, a paired down existence, and an absolute freedom. Don't get me wrong, you cannot top the majestic beauty of this place. The only problem is that we are alone, really alone in a desolate, unforgiving, locals-only town.
   In turn, we bought the house documented in this blog, allowing me to invest everything I had physically, emotionally, maniacally to distract from the painful void looming on the horizon. The Flathead Valley has served our purposes well, I was able to test myself in many new ways, ultimately accepting the all important position as father.
   It has been ten long years, and my wife has managed to make friends and create strong communal bonds. She is after all a people person, I on the other hand have struggled, the friends that I make all eventually leave this valley in search of fresh opportunities.
   It has been an amazing adventure, and it breaks our hearts to leave a few, very special people behind. They are lucky enough to have grown up in this unique place, they have family here, this is their country. I will not sugarcoat the subject, we realized that even if we lived here until the day we die, that would not make us Montanans. We are Buckeyes after all, and we look forward to all the highs and lows associated with our return to Ohio. With tears in our eyes, we want to thank Montana for all the great moments you have shown us.

Christmas Hugs

   Christmas is special to millions of people for a lot of the same reasons, and that harmony within humankind is what is truly special. Whether it is Family, Love, Compassion, Charity or the birth of Christ, this unity fosters the hope that gives birth to a new calendar year. It is no longer a single day, but an entire seasonal event. The month long commercial holiday has finally eclipsed it's little brother Thanksgiving, and is now chomping on the heels of Halloween.

   Personally, I have an extensive list of reasons why I love Christmas. As an overworked, stay-at-home dad, December is the month that I gear down and take on no new projects. With a break from Manic Maker mayhem, I thought long and hard about what to publish for my last post of 2014.

   It just happened that my boys and I wrote a song for my wife. It is by no means a new Christmas classic, but one of the best presents they could give their mom. I am extremely proud of my three-year-old son for writing the lyrics and accompanying me on kazoo. The audio is poor, but the content is rich. Thank you for all your love and support. I will see you in the new year. Happy Holidays!



Cheap Smartphone Plan

    Frugality. I have not directly addressed this topic before, but it is a core principle of the DIY mindset. I would estimate that I have saved upwards of tens of thousands of dollars doing my own renovations. A wise man once told me, "... give it a go, the worse that could happen is you will still need to call a contractor." The essence of this conversation was be smart and thoughtful, and if it does not work out, nothing was lost and then you call a professional.

   What does this have to do with inexpensive cellphone plans? I took this same budget-conscious, DIY mindset and set out to solve a problem. The task at hand, my wife wanted a smartphone, but what she really wanted was to ditch her "burner" flip phone.
   I had looked into this a while back, with no luck matching our current Tracfone plan. All we needed was basic talk and text with no data, the entry level plans for smartphones were nearly four times our current rate. It is worth mentioning, that I also liked the idea of my phone having a video camera for those spontaneous moment with the kids.
   During my extensive research on no contract phones, I came across an Amazon review for a GoPhone that mentioned Pure Talk USA being an affordable, alternative solution. I had never heard of this company, but really wanted to surprise my wife for Christmas. I decided to take a risk and purchased two identical Windows phones for $39 each, I setup an account and ordered SIM cards for free. My new monthly rate is only $15 a month total, for both phones! I know this plan only suits a minority, but I felt it was worth mentioning. Pure Talk uses the AT&T network and the 4G call quality is much better than the older Tracfone network.
   The biggest frustration while researching this issue, was the fact that no one could definitively say whether this setup would work. Well here you go: Pick up a GoPhone, order the Pure Talk SIM and you are set. I rarely endorse specific products unless it is critical to the post, and to answer any haters out there, remember a short decade ago this was rightfully considered a luxury item.

Catwoman Has No Tail

   My wife and I, and our entire generation grew up on the classic Fisher Price Little People. Now, I am not talking about the obese version that is currently available. Even though the scale of these figures reflects our enlarged culture, the playsets are dull and lack the dynamic quality of the original 1970's toys. It was only natural that when I became a parent, I would look for a similar toy to enjoy while playing with my toddlers.
   The Duplo of my generation was blunt and simple, I am sure to avoid being a choking hazard. The Duplo line has really stepped up in recent years to fill this void in the world of preschool imaginary play. The new generation of Duplo has scaled up the smaller blocks from the LEGO City series and this greatly improves the construction possibilities. As a parent this buys me time before moving my oldest son into the more advanced tiny bricks, while allowing his younger brother to play with him.

   Now with all the love bestowed upon the Danish company, they really let my little guy down with The Batcave Adventure set 10545. Hell, I was even excited to see this offering and decided to buy it well before Christmas. The set is great except that Catwoman has a molded plastic tail that greatly restricts her using any vehicle. That includes the Batwing that comes with this set. Unfortunately, Catwoman was soon relegated to the tote of bricks and forgotten about.
   Anyone that reads this blog regularly knows that my mind will not let stuff like this go. I mean she is a really cool figure and an integral part of the pretend scenarios of this set. The simple answer was to lop off the tail with a plastic saw, but this is not graceful enough for a Manic Maker hack. I looked through the tote and found "Izzy" from set 10513. She was never really popular at our house and she had the perfect set of pants for Catwoman. I was pretty confident that the little grey pin in her hip held her entire figure together. I tapped it out with a dull nail, the torso disengaged and presto, Catwoman now has matching purple pants.
   Man, my three-year-old thought I was the greatest Dad ever. Catwoman is now in constant play and I really cannot figure out why they designed her with a tail that restricts basic movements. It may have been the collaboration with DC Comics, but LEGO has never dropped the ball in this way before. I still recommend the set, and maybe with this little tip you can be your kid's hero too.

I Married A Model

   Intrinsically saturated with nostalgia, Fall has always held a romantic power over me. Back-to-school season and the impending holidays cannot help but evoke memories of youth. Now operating with my very own set of little children, I am finding this feeling stronger than ever. Some feel renewed in Spring and I understand their relief of winter passing. Flush in symbolism, flowers budding, and the reincarnation of another year. Not for me though, I prefer the liquor of reflection, introspection and catching my breath after the long trials of summer.
   Sipping on this sweet contemplation, I feel grateful. My wife deserves a hefty pat on the back for all of her hard work that she does for our family. Without her determination and perseverance, we would not be living here in this beautiful house surrounded by the Rocky Mountains.

   She is our unsung hero, our guardian and our foundation. Personally, I have been a handful to live with all on my own, much less the addition of two young boys.
   There are a lot of benefits to writing a blog, and although I avoid overly intimate posts, it does give me a platform to occasionally embarrass the ones I love (note the picture.)
   My wife and I are approaching nineteen years together. She is the coolest girl I have ever met, and remains so to this day.
   As the story goes, a much younger me thought he knew how to snowboard and eagerly joined a weekend ski trip to spend time with a cute girl. Soon after, everyone else dropped out of the excursion, and we were left to spend the weekend alone. The very first run down the mountain revealed this girl really knew how to snowboard and I did not.
   The image of her disappearing over the bluff and out of sight only heightened the attraction. My arrogance was quickly put into check as she kindly gave me pointers on the lift ride. It turned out that not only had I blindly pursued this charming girl, but in fact she was a seasoned snowboard instructor as well. I have thought about this story many times and it could not work out any other way, I knew she was the one.

WIP's List

   The project currently underway is a massive undertaking that involves moving trees, shrubs, earth, utilities, and small mountains to achieve my landscaping "Sistine Chapel." Envision Mr. Miyagi's garden from Karate Kid I, sans koi pond. Years of site study and planning have generated a concept for a private garden, that will provide the backdrop for future family and social gatherings.

   I am still a stay-at-home dad and a one man crew. The amount of labor ahead of me is truly daunting. Even though it is overwhelming, I am dedicated to seeing it all the way through completion this summer.
   This does take me away from luxuries such as writing fresh posts for this blog. This has been the longest break between posts since its inception, and I have come to realize how important it is to my well-being. As for now, I do have several other posts to share when weather will no longer allow me to proceed outdoors.
   The nature of this blog has always been to share unique ideas and solutions that I have discovered along the way of my creative endeavors. However, this is not a means to an end. The most important part of my process is still the design build principle.



Hustle Russell

   Russell Eastway never really had any drive pushing him forward. No, everything in life came through hand-me-downs and broken crayons. What was the point, someone else would eventually take care of it. He was the baby of the family, the runt of the litter, his older brothers were much older, as to suggest he was not intended for this earth. I am not suggesting that he was not loved, it was just a different, stale kind of love.
   I befriended Russell after moving to a small Kentucky town known for its tobacco production. We were paired off as outsiders, the new kid and the-not-so-new kid. We would travel through grade school bonded only by loneliness and circumstance.
   Russell ended up on the soccer team my dad coached and mentored. The squat, little human lumbered down the field, his only deficiency being a lack of internal steam. This is where his mantra would be created. Practice, games, and parking lots, my dad could be heard bellowing, "HUSTLE RUSSELL!"
   Later we would go our own ways, no final goodbye, the bonds had dissolved and our interests diverged. The message still resonates thirty years later, and it became my mantra after watching loved ones pass and favored pets die. A condensed soup of Carpe Diem movie plots and the urgency to be prolific. Go get it while you can, because tomorrow may never come.
   These threads were further braided into rope as my Grandfather's premature death was canonized throughout my young life. The end result cemented a belief that I would be gone soon, before my time. Genetics being the final determinant, with no reverence to lifestyle choices.
   A revelation of my true motivations, the internal drive that makes me stand out. I have always operated out of fear, not some exceptional quality. The need to wring every second out of life, desperately trying to build some sort of timeless legacy. That is a problem though, as an aging adult it is not a pleasant way to approach life. It is isolating and harsh. I am still an outsider, only glimpsing in on the simple lives of other less neurotic human beings. Every choice I make is under pressure, absolutely critical, because there may be no other opportunities for mulligans.

The Bruxist - Vermiculite

   A story of an industrialist crime and the ruining of one of God's beautiful places, a plot so despicable that you will believe hell is necessary to house the patron souls of absolute greed. I had never heard of Libby, Montana before moving to the Northwest in 2005. This unbelievable tale of betrayal and knowingly poisoning an entire town is not new, but undoubtedly the worst.
   I wrote this song shortly after learning of the workers unwittingly transferring the toxic dust to their families and homes. The wonder mineral "vermiculite" from the Libby mine was tainted with asbestos. To make matters worse, the abundant material was used in their local landscaping, playgrounds and ball fields as well. The end material was shipped all over the US, and is still present to this day as attic insulation in older homes.
   This story does not end well, the men in charge of the mine, who were literally responsible for the painful, cancer deaths of entire families got off scot-free. The United States government has tried for decades to mitigate the damage, but at this point, it seems unlikely that Libby can ever be made whole again.

 

The Bruxist - Dusted

   This track was recorded live in September 2013. Initially it was thrown into the waste basket and just recently discovered by accident. Let's face it, at this point, free time is not going to just materialize and I am no longer conditioned for all-nighters. My heart is strong, but with kiddos runnin' 'round, time is limited. These one-shot takes will have to do, so I can move on and free up my soul for other endeavors.

   My two-year-old son provided the imagery for this video. His repetitive sequences of daily life echoed the content of the song's lyrics.
   With a little luck, "The Second EP" will be released one song at a time over the next few weeks.  Nothing fancy, pretty low tech, remember I am no friend of multitrack recording. Reductive to the most simple essence of song creation. The Bruxist grinds on.



Bucilla Christmas Stocking Hack

   Hope manifests itself in many forms. This Christmas feels different than any previous year. My oldest son is aware of Santa Claus and his anticipation is brimming over. I find that my holiday planning has changed, I am putting the pieces in place for all future Christmases to be judged by. It sounds like we are raising the bar a little high, but that is not what I mean.

   We have very little family near us and I do not see that changing anytime soon. I guess I am trying to create new, vivid traditions, not just still-life's fabricated in order to be uploaded from a smartphone. The visceral, the intangible, remotely unexperienceable, that entirely intoxicating feeling from my childhood. The way that my eyes were never in focus while under the glow of incandescent string lights. This phenomenon has always been the magic to me, not the gifts, but the preparation that each family ritualizes over the years.

   My loving mother-in-law has spent thousands of hours creating the hand stitched magnificence that is the foundation of our holiday decorations. Several years ago she made me my very own Bucilla stocking. It is one of the few times that such a gesture has brought tears to my eyes.
   We were all alone in Montana for Christmas and it was her way of including me in their family tradition. With that said, you can understand the reverence that I have for her craft and my stocking.
   Time marches on and our oldest son was welcomed into the family with his very own enormous stocking. By the time our second son was born, it became clear that Grandma would no longer be able to create this felt magic on her own. We searched the web and found an equally gigantic stocking for him. Thankfully, some other grandma had already done all the time-intensive needlework.
   Now this is were our story comes together. With all four stockings hung with care, it became quite noticeable that mine had become dwarfed in scale, nearly to an absurd degree. I could not find an arrangement to satisfy my perfect vision for all future Christmases. And this brings me to the stocking hack. I came up with an idea that would summon all my nerve, I needed to subtly alter my cherished stocking.
   Through careful planning and preparation, I constructed a pattern to enlarge the stocking without losing the meticulous detail. It turns out that years of sewing socks and fixing sweaters had prepared me for this task. The resulting, felted amalgamation will be a lasting contribution to our Christmas tradition as well as a nod to the skill of our family's matron.

IKEA Changing Table Hack - Redux

   Our oldest son is now a free roaming, early-rising banshee, and we desperately need a play area to keep him occupied until we wake, a half hour after him. That is a very precious half hour of sleep at this point.
   After realizing the boys' room had been rather sterile, we moved the nursery rocker to our room in order to free up floor space in their small bedroom. We were looking for additional toy storage, as well as a table that would match the simplicity of the existing beech furniture.

   We no longer needed the Sniglar changing table and it was just taking up space. I love the materials, but had no use for another odd table. It did not cost us a lot and it was about to be sent to Goodwill. A good start to any project is having nothing to lose if experimentation should go wrong. So the changing table was a prime hack candidate.
   The nuts and bolts of this hack started with disassembling the table and flipping the tray bottom panels over. This immediately changed the deep trays into dimensional tabletops, which evoked Ikea's  Latt Children's Table.
   This pretty much sealed the deal, now we needed to choose the proper height for the end product. Initially, my wife and I were thinking of building two short, nesting tables from the tall changing table, but when I tested the joints for strength, I realized they would not stand the abuse of toddlers.
   Thinking like a chimpanzee that jumps on everything, I realized that one squat, burly table would be the best use of the materials. All that was left was to cut a rabbet on the end of each leg and drill the holes for the hardware. The resulting table fits well with the elfin suite of furniture and echoes a toddler coffee table for casual reading and play. We also found a short Rubbermaid Roughneck that fits nicely on the bottom shelf, adding crucial storage to the small room.
   Since my regular posting has recently fallen off, I have tried to vary the content as much as possible. This piece just evolved organically from the previous crib hack and it made sense to post the results now. Unfortunately, I have now completely run out of cheap furniture to manipulate and I am left with custom one-off creations and a pile of sawdust. Even though it was not one of the original topics for this blog, it has been a fun arc, while illustrating the mindset behind all of my previous works.

IKEA Crib Hack

   We managed to contain our toddler for a little over two years before it became abundantly clear that we needed to accept the fact that he deserved a bed, and the inherent freedoms. Part of our reservations were actually keeping him in bed, and the other part was the tacky, mass-produced beds that were available.

Sniglar Bed & Sniglar Crib

   We absolutely love our pair of IKEA cribs. From a design standpoint, they are simple, unfinished beech with clean modern lines. The Sniglar model is awesome and ridiculously affordable. They have also gone so far as to include the ability to remove a side and convert the crib into a daybed. Sold!

   So when the time came, I simply swapped out the parts and we had a happy kiddo. The daybed was nice, but it felt too much like a crib, especially next to his younger brother's crib.
   I wanted to do something special to acknowledge the milestone of my son's first "big boy bed." I researched images and came across  IKEA's Gulliver bed. It was no leap to see the possibility of modifying the bed safely while saving some coin.
   The meat and potatoes of this hack was simple cutting the dowels and resetting them into the rails. I admit that it was a little risky for the sheer fact that I had no alternative bed ready, if something went awry. I started by experimenting on the side that was removed during the daybed conversion. It went easier than expected and my wife encouraged me to go for it. I transferred the necessary measurements and a couple hours later, I had a little elfin toddler bed.
   This project has sentimental weight to it, but it is also incredibly pragmatic. We did not need to buy an intermediate bedroom suite, when our ultimate goal is a bunk bed for the boys. This mod has allowed us to keep our quality mattresses during the interim period, as well as the small footprint of the cribs.

Rocky Slopes

   Climbing the last hundred feet can be the hardest. Above tree line, approaching the summit with no protection from the elements. These moments can make you question everything. If you are focused, it is not an issue. If you are fatigued and your mind is drifting, this short window of time can feel like an eternity. Questions arise, why am I doing this, how did I put myself into this situation?
   My journey has been alright and I mean that in a hate-filled, spiteful way. In no way have I had the worst of what humans can experience, but I have also fallen short of dreams and expectations. I live with a physical brain disease that makes the ability to function in society unpredictable. I would accept the symptoms if I could calculate when they were coming. Not only are they random, the intensity varies wildly. I have every reason to be grateful for this life of mine, except for the looming monster waiting to surface and drag me back to the depths of inner turmoil.
   With that said, this website was constructed to help me celebrate the small victories and my successes. A lot of the work would never have been acknowledged or even noticed, it is the nature of home improvement. So you managed to properly maintain an older home, good for you, do you want a medal?
   As you can tell by now, I am in a rough place. I have a couple new projects that are going sideways. I am out of practice and making amateur mistakes. This is a notice to my readers, as much as I want to be devoted to posting regularly, it is not going to happen right now. I will see you in the future.

   *Additional note: I originally wrote this for myself a week ago, and was hesitant to post it. I feel that it is important to respect the twofold mission of this website. On one hand, I want to focus on sharing ideas and help readers with unique DIY issues. On the other hand, it is in a blog format, and it should reveal the character of a manic depressive maker. High and low, the disease is an integral part of my creative mind.

Utility Bench

   Living in a hotel for a month is not a great experience, albeit the continental breakfast and afternoon cookies can be a fat kid's snacking dream. We transferred to Montana during the height of the real estate bubble and the local landlords were unrealistic about their squalid hellholes. To add to the tension, all of our household possessions were locked-up in a warehouse somewhere back east, waiting for us to find a new address to deliver to.



   During our extended stay, I really started to appreciate the luxurious laundry facilities the hotel offered. There were generous countertops for folding laundry, and being the one who handles our laundry, I took note of the setup.
   Years later, I recalled the Taj Mahal of laundry facilities, and decided to repurpose a leftover countertop to emulate this experience. Our laundry room had housed a large, dated laundry chute from the upstairs that took up an entire wall. This was gutted immediately for the much needed storage space. I also mitred the exposed countertop corner to allow for access to the machines. The edges were finished with laminate and then mounted the top to a simple ledger and brace. When the kids arrived, I shifted the brace in order to fit the roughneck totes underneath.
   I could not imagine our small house functioning without this valuable space. It acts as a staging area for various kids projects, as well as all the other  clutter that a family generates. If the utility sink is one of the most valuable tools you can have during a renovation, then I would have to vote for this utility bench as runner-up. It has provided a conditioned workspace for many small projects such as painting trim and of course, folding laundry.