Sheilajeanne

ERMcdow, this thread has been dormant since 2013. The 6 month old puppy the OP was referring to is no doubt long dead. (Original post was in 2009.) I agree a dog should not be left untended while wearing a muzzle. I had a dog-aggressive dog I was trying to rehab, and was using a wire basket muzzle with leather straps, which was attached to her collar at both the top and bottom. She put her toes inside the bottom of the basket, and ripped the straps in two... I also tried walking her in a Gentle Leader. She destroyed THAT in about 30 seconds! Crate training is definitely the best way to go! My dog spends the better part of the day lounging in her crate - door is always open.

Tribal Spirit offers a discount to people with native status, and I'm sure native craftspeople use a lot more artificial sinew than your average leatherworker. They obviously won't want to disappoint their customers, so will stock good stuff, not crap. I have a few other reasons for using them - they're Canadian, so no cross-border shipping. Also, I've dealt with them to buy moose and deer hides, and they've been fantastic - both the speed of shipping and the quality of the leather. So, I'm hoping I'll have the same experience with the artificial sinew. Third - it's hard to find a small roll of ANY type of thread!

Ard Righ, if I ever run out of the large-ish roll of sinew I bought from Tandy, I'm going to give Tribal Spirit a try: https://tribalspiritmusic.com/artists/supplies/needles-and-sinew/ Since native people were the first North Americans to sew with sinew, I'm hoping they know where to find the good stuff now that it's made out of polyester! Most shops only sell large spools of sinew, but Tribal Spirit has the natural colour available in a 65 ft. roll, so I won't feel bad about getting rid of it if it doesn't work as well as I think it should!

I was able to buy a six pack at Canadian Tire, and still have most of them. I might find the missing ones if I check the couch cushions or under the seats in my car... The only ones I've had to replace recently were the extra strong ones I use for stitching. The plastic frames just don't last. I wonder if they are sensitive to the sun? The pair I had on the dining table just seemed to crack for no reason, and that table does get a fair bit of sun in the spring and fall. The six pack were all black metal frames, so we're good... I had one pair that had the puppy chew off one of the nose pads, and the plastic ear covers, and scratch the lenses up pretty badly. Do you think I could ever loose that pair?? No, it was always the expensive ones with the metal case that I'd buy to put in my purse! I think a lens finally popped out on the damaged pair, and I gave them the heave-ho.

Fred, here's how to make sure you never loose your glasses again! Let's hear it for Command Hooks (name brand)... A friend of mine used to have a Z28! Unfortunately, she lived in a large apartment complex where thieves were constantly targeting the cars in the parking garage. She had the sound system stolen out of the car, and they tried to take the tires one time, too, but guess they got scared off by security. Needless to say, she had an alarm system put in the car after the sound system was stolen, but it wasn't rigged to go off if someone was trying to steal the tires! When I first got married, I briefly lived in the same area (Thorncliffe Park, Toronto) and couldn't WAIT to move elsewhere!! Too many people, too much traffic. Love where I live now, where traffic jams are due to farm vehicles on the road.

Handstitched, me too! Currently have a pair on my nose, which I try to leave on the desk, so I usually take them off before I leave the room. There's an extra strong pair on the dining table, where I sometimes do stitching, another extra strong pair in a drawer in my leatherworking bench, one in my purse, and yet another in the glove box of my car, in case the ones in my purse go missing. (Now and then, I might put them down on a table in a restaurant or the shelves at a store and forget them.)

Yeah, I was just going to comment, 'hey, it's moulting season for birds, so no harm done!' My friend across the road has a number of budgies, so I know it's that time of year for them.

I did a few leatherwork projects when I was 12-13. I was using my mom's cloth needles for sewing, and engineered some stamping tools out of nails and bits of scrap metal. I found an old awl in Dad's toolbox, and he let me have it. My knives were jackknives my dad gave me after confiscating them from the kids at school... Hey, I got some really good steel blades on some of them! My leather was from an old leather gunbelt I'd had as a kid, along with a cap pistol. If only my parents had introduced me to Tandy!! There was a store (Radio Shack) at a local shopping mall, where we often shopped! Without the proper tools, I soon lost interested. When I found Tandy as an adult, that's when things really took off! I was lucky enough to find a wonderful mentor at their store, the guy who taught their leather working classes! Thank you, Bill! You always found the time to answer my questions!

Yeah, that's the one I'm talking about, Chuck! Didn't know they'd identified him though!

One of my favourite pieces by the Stones! :D Wow, Brian Jones playing sitar!

Fred, they once found someone's foot, still encased in a sneaker. I don't think they ever identified who it belonged to.

A poster on the Canadian Leathercraft FB forum said they are reticulated python skins.

HS, I recently joined the Yellowstone National Park: Invasion of the Idiots. They call them 'tourons' a combo of 'tourist' and 'moron'. Now that tourist season is in full swing, there are daily pictures of tourists getting too close to bison and bears, and even walking out past the signs that say 'DANGER - THERMAL AREA - BOILING WATER - DO NOT ENTER!' One guy even walked up to Old Faithful and pointed his camera down the geyser spout! He was promptly arrested when he got back to safe ground. The mineral content of the hot springs will very quickly dissolve a whole body. https://www.facebook.com/photo/?fbid=6242726555823218&set=g.183268598737928

When my husband and I were living in a rented house, the landlord told us this story about the hot car his brother had owned when they were young. I'm sorry I can't remember the details of make, model, etc. as this was more than 20 years ago, but it was definitely a sleeper. When the cops pulled him over for speeding on the highway, they were more interested in seeing what was under the hood than giving him a ticket! He'd left their cruisers in the dust, and only got pulled over because they radioed a squad car that was further up the highway.

A poster in the Canadian Leathercrafter's forum says these are reticulated python skins, and they are actually farmed for their skins, as are Burmese pythons! The reticulated python is native to south and south-east Asia. It is the world's longest snake, and yes, they have been documented as eating humans! https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Reticulated_python

I was thinking South America. And I've been informed that there are STILL snakes that size in various parts of the world, especially South America!

I doubt you will find snakes this big anymore! It definitely looks like they would have been able to swallow a person whole! Drying snake skins in a warehouse in the Port of London, 1930.

That is some of the best work I've seen on here in a long time! I was interested to see how you did it, especially the piping, so I checked out your links on FB. A lot of work but you make it look so easy! Of course, anyone who has tried this know it is not. The brown wallet does have nicer piping, but both are very very well made! Your work is AWESOME! What do you call the machine that sews the piping?

Well, I guess the job gets pretty boring, with nothing but long stretches of track and bush or plains... But what a risky way to get some excitement in his life! Even if I'd been in something sportier than a Landy, I would have backed down, too. No messing with that much weight and power! YIKES!!

When I came back to view this thread, I realized what I wrote yesterday never got posted! Fred, I was thinking of that other post of mine when I mentioned the catapult on his desk! I may give it a try....but there's a LOT of other, more important stuff I SHOULD be doing! There used to be a guy in the Tolkien fandom who had a thing about trebuchets. His screen name was Krispy Kreme, and he used them to propel his favourite donuts! That's where I developed an interest in them. To this day, if you happen to mention the word 'trebuchet' in the Tolkien forum I belong to, you'll get an enthusiastic response! Anyway, here's yesterday's post: Good one about the catalogue and TP, Tugadude. About the nails - one of my uncles used a woodstove to heat his workshop on the farm, which was in the shed that also housed two of their tractors. One day, the woodstove caused the roof to catch fire, and the whole shed went up in flames. My cousin was barely able to save the tractors. The one wouldn't start, so he had to use the other to tow it out. He was shaking like a leaf by the time he got it to safety. Of all the nails and other bits of hardware that were in the workshop, not a single thing could be salvaged. My uncle showed us what had happened. He picked up a nail, and easily bent it double and broke it with very little pressure. The fire had been so hot, all the metal lost its temper.

Awww! Laughing at the Elmer Fudd cartoon! Well done!

Right, Fred. Chuck that is indeed an awesome video! I bought a round knife, and never felt comfortable using it, as I think the handle is too long for my hand. But after watching her, I may give it another try!

Hey, that's the guy from Mythbusters! Will have to give these a watch... Edit: I just noticed the armourer has a small trebuchet on his workbench! Obviously his job is not all serious work...

A local bar was so sure that its barman was the strongest man in the Village that they offered a standing $1000 bet. The barman would squeeze a lemon until all the juice ran out and challenge any man to squeeze out another drop. Weightlifters, arm wrestlers, they all tried and lost the bet. Then one day, a scrawny little man, (if he stood sideways you would not see him) wearing scratched glasses, a ten year old polyester suit, walked in and said, “I'd like to take on the bet." After the laughter had died down, the barman said, "Okay", grabbed the lemon and squeezed away. Then he handed the wrinkled remains of the lemon rind to the little man. But the crowd's laughter turned to total silence....as the man clenched his little fist around the lemon and six drops fell into the glass. As the barman paid the $1000 bet, he asked "What do you do for a living? Are you a lumberjack, a metal worker, a weight-lifter, or what?" The little man quietly replied: "I’m a tax collector.”

Handstitched, so sorry for your loss. I know how hard it is. And how the grief will sneak up and cause you to burst into tears at the most unexpected times, over the most trivial things. I kept things that belonged to my husband. Have gradually let go of some (it will be 20 years next year!) but still have a few. A lambs wool sweater that is far too big for me but very cosy to wrap up in on a cold night. A sweat shirt from the university we both graduated from. At some point I need I know to go through the hundreds of pictures he took during our time together, and get them down to a manageable number, then scan them into the computer. The best description of the grieving process I've ever come across is this. I don't know who wrote it, but it's very accurate: "My friend just died. I don't know what to do." ‘I’m old. What that means is that I've survived (so far) and a lot of people I've known and loved did not. I've lost friends, best friends, acquaintances, co-workers, grandparents, mom, relatives, teachers, mentors, students, neighbors, and a host of other folks. I have no children, and I can't imagine the pain it must be to lose a child. But here's my two cents... I wish I could say you get used to people dying. But I never did. I don't want to. It tears a hole through me whenever somebody I love dies, no matter the circumstances. But I don't want it to "not matter". I don't want it to be something that just passes. My scars are a testament to the love and the relationship that I had for and with that person. And if the scar is deep, so was the love. So be it. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are a testament that I can love deeply and live deeply and be cut, or even gouged, and that I can heal and continue to live and continue to love. And the scar tissue is stronger than the original flesh ever was. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are only ugly to people who can't see. As for grief, you'll find it comes in waves. When the ship is first wrecked, you're drowning, with wreckage all around you. Everything floating around you reminds you of the beauty and the magnificence of the ship that was, and is no more. And all you can do is float. You find some piece of the wreckage and you hang on for a while. Maybe it's some physical thing. Maybe it's a happy memory or a photograph. Maybe it's a person who is also floating. For a while, all you can do is float. Stay alive. In the beginning, the waves are 100 feet tall and crash over you without mercy. They come 10 seconds apart and don't even give you time to catch your breath. All you can do is hang on and float. After a while, maybe weeks, maybe months, you'll find the waves are still 100 feet tall, but they come further apart. When they come, they still crash all over you and wipe you out. But in between, you can breathe, you can function. You never know what's going to trigger the grief. It might be a song, a picture, a street intersection, the smell of a cup of coffee. It can be just about anything...and the wave comes crashing. But in between waves, there is life. Somewhere down the line, and it's different for everybody, you find that the waves are only 80 feet tall. Or 50 feet tall. And while they still come, they come further apart. You can see them coming. An anniversary, a birthday, or Christmas, or landing at O'Hare. You can see it coming, for the most part, and prepare yourself. And when it washes over you, you know that somehow you will, again, come out the other side. Soaking wet, sputtering, still hanging on to some tiny piece of the wreckage, but you'll come out. Take it from an old guy. The waves never stop coming, and somehow you don't really want them to. But you learn that you'll survive them. And other waves will come. And you'll survive them too. If you're lucky, you'll have lots of scars from lots of loves. And lots of shipwrecks.