ROBIEWANKENOBIE

so, yesterday the leon gets home from class early, and i, the rwkn, run off to my first carving club meeting. now, you may think that i'm a total novice. not so, dear friends, not so. i'll have you know that i was the first and only member of the norman p. robie carving club. yes indeedy. during the spring breaks full of laughter, skinks, lawrence welk, garage sales, and murder she wrote...there was also...my grandfather's carving club. all these old geezers at a long fold out table and metal chairs in my grandfather's garage. these guys were the real deal. my grandfather would get driftwood and make these amazing seagulls which he would attach to them. so daggone cool. the other fogeys were equally talented. i can't for the life of me, remember what they talked about. but hear this...the important part...they let me carve shitz with very sharp knives. awesome.

so last night, i'm all stoked. carving club! woohoo! and it were a fascinating time, indeed.

first of all, it's in a basement of a church across town. this place is hoppin'. quilting club upstairs, children running amok, and the wild and raucous carvers are in the basement. wanna see a room of old white dudes fall silent? walk on in and stand there waiting for someone to notice you. then announce that you're there for the carving. boy, gee, howdy, did they look confused. they did, however, ask me about how i was enjoying college. so, i'm a pretty big fan of the carving club.

the following is a recreation of the cast of characters.

to my left. old santy. very informative. knows a lot. i suspect he might have an idea of when people are sleeping, or awake. tells me, among other things, that i should start with an exacto. in case i'm not fond of the carving. or something. then he spends about 20 minutes or so telling me that i should carve hearts or something as my first project. *rolls eyes* sweet man, though.

across the table. mr. i'm all about it. "hey, maybe you want this pattern for an eagle? in case? or this turtle? have you seen this non-carving magazine that will give you cut outs of those bend over show your undies lawn people that you can paint?"

santy would say something, and mr. i'm all about it would chime in. santy would just look at him. then he'd call down the table to mr. niceface. "niceface? do you think this is a good first project? yeah, me neither." this did not discourage i'm all about it. he filled the night with infectious ideas such as, "hey, i could cut you out a jigsaw puzzle that you could paint!" mr. niceface asked him if this entailed any carving whatsoever. nope. "but maybe she'd like to paint some wood? and learn some finishing?" i do believe that he is the worst carver that i've ever seen. everything is chipped out in blocks, and he marks his wood with HUUUUGE black marker strokes. which he never carves off. so everything is rough, and a wee bit goth. he tells me that he carved the group project without a pattern, because he doesn't need one. but he also tells me that he couldn't exactly remember what he was carving, so it doesn't look like the others. plus? it's the goth punk brother of the group project. 'tis true.

to the right of me walt disney world. almost, if not more, excitable than mr. i'm all about it. sample conversation: "so, i used to live in florida where i did work for walt disney world. walt disney world would call me up and ask me if i could do all sorts of things. i could, you know. one time i made this rolling butcher block table for the walt disney institute that had burners and could roll around. i used to work fourteen hour days at walt disney world. have you seen my card? these are all the things that i can do. i used to do a lot of this stuff for walt disney world. i don't carve, but mr. nice face, invited me. now that i've retired, and don't do stuff for walt disney world anymore, my wife wants me to slow down. i thought i'd learn to carve, but i don't know if i can stay still that long." then he would take a breath.

next to him, mr. niceface just carried on a comfortable little conversation with mr. i brought every carving implement in my arsenal, but i' ain't going to use 'em. hence forth known as, mr. Ibecimabagtue. you dig? mr. Ibecimabagtue was standing at the top of the stairs when i came in. he was talking with a kid. twenty hours later he comes downstairs. he sits, but sits like he's not fully vested in the sitting. like he might grab his enormous tool caddy and leave at any given moment.

mr. niceface says to me that he can see that i'm serious about the carving. which is amusing, because all i've done thusfar is nod during conversation. he hands me a knife, piece of wood, and shows me some basics. they all get a little nervous when i go at the wood with gusto. there is a conversation about what the best material for thumb protection should be. bandaids. tape. thumb protectors. gloves.

my favorite part of the whole damn thing was when mr. i'm all about it showed me his walking stick. he asked me if i knew who the carving was. uh, no. "it's daniel boone. i never knew mr. boone personally, but this is him." aha. then he asked me if i wanted to "touch his stick." and he told me that it was really smooth. not. a. touch. of. irony.

now i'm working on my first project. it's a mushroom. only it's at the end of a narrow block of wood. so it looks like i'm carving a penis. maybe i should carve a penis and bring it back next month.

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in unrelated news...i have keys. vroooom!