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June 16, 2021

Plates

Craig Johnson

I recently started a remodel of my tack shed down at the barn, and when I’d originally built that portion I had used all the scraps leftover from building the original structure. Subsequently, if there was a straight, un-warped, unchecked piece of lumber used, I couldn’t tell you where that might be. The reason I knew it was time for a remodel was when I stepped inside, and the floor collapsed. I didn’t have the money for treated lumber in the original build and figured by the time it gave way, I’d be dead anyway. Goes to show you. I began by plying up the remaining floor planks and promptly pried one up and into my head. Feeling a little woozy, I stood, which was a mistake and leaned against the wall with blood pouring through my fingers. I pulled out some gauze and equine bandages and then caught sight of the goo you put on open wounds on horses and figured that wouldn’t hurt. It was only later that I read that it shouldn’t be used on humans or animals to be slaughtered and eaten. So, if something happens to me, I suggest nobody eat me. When I got back up to the house later in the afternoon, Judy looked at me and made me take off the entire bandage job and was horrified that I hadn’t cleaned the wound out. “I figured the medicine was good enough.” She stared at me. “What medicine?” We weren’t off to a particularly good start. I broadened the tack shed to where I could put all my wood-working tools, re-using the weathered barnwood sparingly, insulating and putting corrugated tin on the ceiling and as a chair rail panel all the way around—even going so far as to run into Buckingham’s in Buffalo, our last rough-cut lumberyard and actually buying wood. Through the winter, I’d work on the tack shed every night for a half hour while feeding the horses, and it’s surprising what you can get done in small increments if you stay at it every day. The flooring had some knotholes which I patched up with motorcycle license plates to keep the mice out when the barn cats are otherwise occupied. I then looked up at the sliding door I’d put in, a large one to accommodate any projects I might be involved with in the shop. There were cracks between the planks and were pretty much the only way cold air could get in. I had some old car and truck plates and figured maybe I’d just screw them into the door to seal it up. Well, I got about halfway through when I ran out of plates… You know, social media gets a bad rap an awful lot of the time, but every now and again it comes through. I put out an emergency call, asking folks if they had any extra Wyoming plates lying around that I sure could use them. Within a week, I had four hundred and thirty-two plates, one pencil cup and a bird feeder. The barn door is finished, and something of a work of art, at least in my book. Hopefully this post-it will serve as a great big thank you to all the folks that chipped in. The door doesn’t let any frigid air in and is quite colorful. In other news, my head healed without stitches and I only whinny and stomp my feet every once in a while. See you on the trail, Craig Return to Post-Its
Musical Chairs

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Sign up for Craig’s Post-It Newsletter using this link. If you need help, please see the Contact page.

June 16, 2021

Plates

Craig Johnson

I recently started a remodel of my tack shed down at the barn, and when I’d originally built that portion I had used all the scraps leftover from building the original structure. Subsequently, if there was a straight, un-warped, unchecked piece of lumber used, I couldn’t tell you where that might be. The reason I knew it was time for a remodel was when I stepped inside, and the floor collapsed. I didn’t have the money for treated lumber in the original build and figured by the time it gave way, I’d be dead anyway. Goes to show you. I began by plying up the remaining floor planks and promptly pried one up and into my head. Feeling a little woozy, I stood, which was a mistake and leaned against the wall with blood pouring through my fingers. I pulled out some gauze and equine bandages and then caught sight of the goo you put on open wounds on horses and figured that wouldn’t hurt. It was only later that I read that it shouldn’t be used on humans or animals to be slaughtered and eaten. So, if something happens to me, I suggest nobody eat me. When I got back up to the house later in the afternoon, Judy looked at me and made me take off the entire bandage job and was horrified that I hadn’t cleaned the wound out. “I figured the medicine was good enough.” She stared at me. “What medicine?” We weren’t off to a particularly good start. I broadened the tack shed to where I could put all my wood-working tools, re-using the weathered barnwood sparingly, insulating and putting corrugated tin on the ceiling and as a chair rail panel all the way around—even going so far as to run into Buckingham’s in Buffalo, our last rough-cut lumberyard and actually buying wood. Through the winter, I’d work on the tack shed every night for a half hour while feeding the horses, and it’s surprising what you can get done in small increments if you stay at it every day. The flooring had some knotholes which I patched up with motorcycle license plates to keep the mice out when the barn cats are otherwise occupied. I then looked up at the sliding door I’d put in, a large one to accommodate any projects I might be involved with in the shop. There were cracks between the planks and were pretty much the only way cold air could get in. I had some old car and truck plates and figured maybe I’d just screw them into the door to seal it up. Well, I got about halfway through when I ran out of plates… You know, social media gets a bad rap an awful lot of the time, but every now and again it comes through. I put out an emergency call, asking folks if they had any extra Wyoming plates lying around that I sure could use them. Within a week, I had four hundred and thirty-two plates, one pencil cup and a bird feeder. The barn door is finished, and something of a work of art, at least in my book. Hopefully this post-it will serve as a great big thank you to all the folks that chipped in. The door doesn’t let any frigid air in and is quite colorful. In other news, my head healed without stitches and I only whinny and stomp my feet every once in a while. See you on the trail, Craig Return to Post-Its

POST-ITS

© Craig Johnson All Rights Reserved

Author Of
Sign up for Craig’s Post-It Newsletter using this link. If you need help, please see the Contact page.

June 16, 2021

Plates

Craig Johnson

I recently started a remodel of my tack shed down at the barn, and when I’d originally built that portion I had used all the scraps leftover from building the original structure. Subsequently, if there was a straight, un-warped, unchecked piece of lumber used, I couldn’t tell you where that might be. The reason I knew it was time for a remodel was when I stepped inside, and the floor collapsed. I didn’t have the money for treated lumber in the original build and figured by the time it gave way, I’d be dead anyway. Goes to show you. I began by plying up the remaining floor planks and promptly pried one up and into my head. Feeling a little woozy, I stood, which was a mistake and leaned against the wall with blood pouring through my fingers. I pulled out some gauze and equine bandages and then caught sight of the goo you put on open wounds on horses and figured that wouldn’t hurt. It was only later that I read that it shouldn’t be used on humans or animals to be slaughtered and eaten. So, if something happens to me, I suggest nobody eat me. When I got back up to the house later in the afternoon, Judy looked at me and made me take off the entire bandage job and was horrified that I hadn’t cleaned the wound out. “I figured the medicine was good enough.” She stared at me. “What medicine?” We weren’t off to a particularly good start. I broadened the tack shed to where I could put all my wood-working tools, re- using the weathered barnwood sparingly, insulating and putting corrugated tin on the ceiling and as a chair rail panel all the way around—even going so far as to run into Buckingham’s in Buffalo, our last rough-cut lumberyard and actually buying wood. Through the winter, I’d work on the tack shed every night for a half hour while feeding the horses, and it’s surprising what you can get done in small increments if you stay at it every day. The flooring had some knotholes which I patched up with motorcycle license plates to keep the mice out when the barn cats are otherwise occupied. I then looked up at the sliding door I’d put in, a large one to accommodate any projects I might be involved with in the shop. There were cracks between the planks and were pretty much the only way cold air could get in. I had some old car and truck plates and figured maybe I’d just screw them into the door to seal it up. Well, I got about halfway through when I ran out of plates… You know, social media gets a bad rap an awful lot of the time, but every now and again it comes through. I put out an emergency call, asking folks if they had any extra Wyoming plates lying around that I sure could use them. Within a week, I had four hundred and thirty-two plates, one pencil cup and a bird feeder. The barn door is finished, and something of a work of art, at least in my book. Hopefully this post-it will serve as a great big thank you to all the folks that chipped in. The door doesn’t let any frigid air in and is quite colorful. In other news, my head healed without stitches and I only whinny and stomp my feet every once in a while. See you on the trail, Craig Return to Post-Its

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