The making of a Viking period Pattern-welded sword.

A buddy and I were consuming spare time surfing the net.  Here's some nifty stuff we came across.
Pattern Welding Process Part 1
Pattern Welding Process Part 2

This guy, Gregory Delaunay is a knifefemaker/artist from France and produces some amazing work.  Here's the website: http://www.elfic.fr/index.htm

A very nice set of videos describing the pattern welding process start to finish.  It pays to watch the second video all the way to the end, as the pattern in the blade is utterly beautiful.  The are set to English music, but the text is  french.  There's another link here that accurately described the process in English here.  Well illustrated.

Armour Projects

 So.  I've decided to start some new armour.  And this time I'll actually document the process.  Yeah, I know I said I would do that with the quiver too, but you know how it is.  A good friend of mine named Darcy, (or Stragin for those of you in the SCA) built himself a set of leather Lorica Segmentata.
 This is what Segmentata looks like:

This is what Darcy's leather lorica looks like:

I have my cardboard pattern constructed, and will update along the way.

Serious Stuff.

So here it is.  Last week a very close friend of mine went to the hospital complaining of chest pain, nausea and pain in his neck.  Classic symptoms. He's less than ten years older than me.  My Dad crossed in his early 40's, in 1998.  Those of you who know me, (not that anyone reads this, but whatever,) know that I am not the healthiest person in the world.  I'm overweight.  I am far less active than I aught to be.  My knee is already well on the way to complete failure.

I have had chest pain in the past, and have had more recently.  Went to the Dr. for routine evaluation of my blood pressure meds last night.  My pressure was 135/101.  Needless to say, I am concerned.  I have three small children six and under.  I want to see them grown, and married with children of their own.  My Dad never got to see that.  It's remarkable how all of these things can make a person stop and think.  We've all seen the ads "heart disease and stroke will take 1 in 3 before their time." We ignore it and wait for Big Bang Theory to come back on.  It's sobering and uncomfortable to think that I could well be that 1 in 3.

Not everything is against me.  I have an awful family history, yes.  I remember very clearly when we got the phone call that my paternal Grandfather had passed.  I was 13.  My brother and I were sitting at the dining room table playing the old T.M.N.T roleplaying game.  My dad picked up the phone.  It was the first time I ever saw him cry. I do not smoke.  I do not eat excessively bad food; not truckstop eating or fast food gorging.  I have tried time and again to go to a gym; life consistently seems to have other plans...

We are, as a society I think, terribly insensitive to death.  We see it daily on the evening news, the internet graciously provides the latest videos or human rights abuses and governmental murder from across the globe to our desk while we enjoy our coffee.  Then we watch funny cat videos or an annoying citrus fruit.  Violence has even become a form of entertainment.  How many people have you "killed" playing video games?  Is this a bad thing over all?  Not neccessarily.  We are a violent species over all.  We are one of only two species on the planet that will wipe out competitors to the last individual.  The other species is ants. (of course I am generalizing the many types of ants...)

This insensitivity disappears completely when confronted with your own death.

Wait.  I just re-read that.  No, it doesn't.  I still played Battlefield 3 last night, gleefully blowing up other people.  I still laughed at a cartoon mocking the late Kim Jong Il not ten minutes ago.  I guess it only makes us consider our OWN connectedness.  How selfish is that?

Why I hate home repair.

I hate home repairs.  Don't get me wrong, it's not that I'm lazy, or don't care about my home.  It's that nagging feeling of incompetence and impending disaster I have the entire time that I'm doing something in my home.  I do consider myself to be moderately handy around the house.  I can do minor electrical things, like changing plugs and light fixtures. I can paint and do cosmetic work. I even did the hardwood floor in the house we are currently in. 

 But my wife watches the DIY network. 

 She has "ideas" and "plans."  

 They're good ideas and plans, but they are generally huge.  So far I  have been able to hold her off, mostly because we can't afford the renovations she wants to do right now. In the mean time, I'm building my skill set with smaller repairs.  There are plenty to do, because I have three kids, three cats and a dog.  Even when I think I'm done, all of a sudden there's more to do.  That's how I spent my weekend.  It did not go as well as it could have...

So here's the whole sordid tale. Let me start off with the recent history of our upstairs bathroom.  Recently, the toilet started to not clear as well as it had before.  Constant clogging, slow flushing.  A toilet snake wouldn't even go into the toilet.  Amy and I were worried the dishcloth Claire had flushed months ago was back to haunt us. At the time I called a plumber and was told that if everything worked, and was fine after a couple of days then not to worry.  So in my mind, I knew this was not it.  But I really didn't want to pull the toilet.  Finally I give in.  On a Saturday morning while Amy and the kids are shopping I launch into the bathroom.  It was uneventful, except for the toothbrush I pulled from the toilet.  With my fingers, because nothing else would reach.  Yes, ewww. I figured the bathroom will be problem free for awhile.


Nope.  Saturday rolls around.  Claire, for what ever reasons two year olds have, decides to cram as much toilet paper as possible down the sink.  She used a pencil to push it down.  Then runs water.  The toilet paper compacts, so she adds more.  I figure no worries, I'll fix it in the morning.  I've got a commitment to help a buddy with set building on Sunday morning but  while Amy takes the kids to church; I'll pull the trap off the sink and off to help him in, like, 20 minutes. I assemble my tools and supplies so I'm prepared and ready to start.  


Amy leaves Sunday morning, and I'm started before the door is closed.  Ominous start.  One of the nuts is rusted tight. No problem. Tighten just a little to loosen rust, then off she comes. The next is the same, but cracks. Crummy, but not a big deal. Off to get another. Three stores later...we have a new nut. Awesome. Off comes the J trap. It is also cracked. Has been for years, likely since it was installed. I can see pipe wrench tooth marks on the sides of it.  Dammit. Back to the store. I get a new trap. Now Amy and the kids are back from church. No prob, quick fix, and we're done, right? Nope. All my tools are gone. Claire has "helped" by putting them away. But doesn't remember where. It was also assumed that I was finished, and had gone to help my friend Rob, so about two litres of water are now in the bottom of the vanity. Clean up. Find tools. Put the J trap on the drain pipe coming from the sink. It slips right on no problem. Beauty. Go to hook it to the drain going into the wall. There has been a change in standard size of J trap in the intervening years from original installation. All work ceases for Sunday, as Amy has "things to do." It is 2 pm.

Monday morning. I get no call for Sub work, so here we go. I modify the drain pipe from the sink by cutting about 1 inch off the length. My tubing cutter is, like, 1/8 of an inch too small, so I use a hacksaw while stuffed under the bathroom sink.  Bashed knuckles and swearing under my breath ensue.  No cuts on the sharp pipe edges though.  This is accomplished while Claire is sitting on me "helping." I hook everything up. Fit is great. I turn on the water, and it pours from the wall end of the J trap fitting as though there were no pipe there at all. Clean up. Remove everything. The little seal lip on the old trap-to-wall pipe broke when I tightened it. Apparently it was also cracked. Dammit. Back to the store.  Then another.


 "Oh no, those don't come separately, they only come as a kit with a J trap," the guys says.  
"But I already have the J trap," I say. Those do come separately. 
"No worries," the guy says "even if it's open you can return it," 
"Awesome!" I say. 
"unless it's been installed," he finishes. 
"......," I say. 
Buy the kit. Back home. Everything is installed and leak free. It is 1:30 Monday afternoon.


This is why I hate home repair.

the Christenson Christening 2

The Christenson Christening is complete.  Everything went well.  Ari managed to find quite the smart little suit for Tait at a Sears in Edmonton.  Amy and her Mom were a little miffed about having to share the spotlight with a couple of other families, who were termed "fly-ins."  Apparently it is not uncommon to have people book a baptism and never show up again.  Nice commitment people.  Even if I don't particularly hold with organized religion, even I went the Sunday before.

Tait was the only one who went in willingly; all smiles and happiness.  Claire was wigged out by the fact that she was having her hair washed at Church in front of all these strangers.  When she finally gave in she started pulling at her dress to get it off because she didn't want to get it wet.  Grace was another story entirely.  We were going to do her first, and she was totally willing to come to the front, but when she realized she actually had to do something, she flipped.  Tears and hiding and everything.  So we did Tait and Claire while I talked to Grace.  (is it contradictory to threaten your kids during their baptism?)  I had to lift her, and she fought passively the whole time, but it's done.

This stage fright thing has happened before.  Dance class, reading to grandparents, getting"caught" practicing  her dance.  I am really hoping it's just an age thing and not some manifestation of trouble we might get to see from the phenylketonuria when she gets older...

the Christenson Christening

We're getting the kids baptized this Sunday.  It's getting interesting.  The original plan was to have them christened in the same church in Ingersol where all of Amy's family have traditionally been baptized.  Not going to happen any time soon.  So we have it here.  I have never been to a baptism, except my own which I don't remember.  I have no idea what is expected of me.  We're trying to meet with the Minister, but he has chosen this week to take multiple days off.  We cannot find clothes for the kids.  You'd think in Red Deer, of all places, you'd be able to find christening clothes.  Nope.  Amy is trying to do tons of baking because apparently we need to host a tea afterward.  Lots of fun with Tait in a carrier and Claire being, well, CRAZY.
Update:
The girls we've got covered now; Claire is wearing the same dress her Mom and her Nan wore.  We found a nice simple dress for Grace.  No shoes though...  Hopefully, my wonderful sister-in-law can find something in Edmonton today for Tait, assuming she survives the roads.  Pictures will follow.

Quiver

I am getting tired of leaving my arrows lying about in a box.  To remedy the situation, I'm building myself a quiver, loosely based on and inspired by the Anglo-Saxon quivers I saw on the Reverend's Big Blog of Leather here.  Mine I built slightly differently than his, as I also wanted to have an integral arrow cover, like the Hedeby quiver discussed here.  I will be posting photos of progress shortly.

I am having a slight problem with curvature of the sides.  Because I used a small shoulder from Tandy, I couldn't fit my quiver pattern on the leather following the body of the animal.  I am finding that by having the length of the quiver run perpendicular to the spine of the animal, the curve is not terribly smooth.  I'm going to try to remedy this by NOT dying the leather until after it's sewn, then hopefully when I dye the leather the moisture in the dye will allow the leather to curve more smoothly.

On a related note, another problem I'm having is in finding coad for sewing the leather.  I have found this to be called handwax or shoemaker's wax also.  I have some recipes calling for a 2:1 ration of rosin to beeswax, and others calling for pitch and rosin.  Time to start cooking the stuff myself I guess.  I think my darling wife would have a stroke if I used her stove, so I am now also looking for a portable hot plate...