A WoodTurning Smock at No Cost!

As I sit here contemplating the Nature of the Universe, as well as a McDonald’s Sausage, Egg, and Cheese McGriddle and Orange Juice, I ponder a greater mystery that afflicts those of us that practice woodturning.

God works in mysterious ways, and there is nothing ever so mysterious as . . . how in the WORLD did those wood shavings get INTO my skivvies?! Both the front and the back?!

Yes ladies, though Men are often grunting Neanderthals, sometimes there are good reasons for the poking and scratching about in, shall we say, indiscriminate areas. I mean, seriously. My shirt is buttoned; my pants aren’t hanging down mid-cheek. I don’t wear thongs, and my BVDs don’t have holes in them.

And my belly-button? Lets just talk about that for a moment (now that I’m in full swing, the McGriddle done and the dregs of the Orange Juice bubbling up the straw)! Someone explain to me HOW sawdust and woodchips managed to get past my neckline, through the, erm, manly man-fur gracing my “rippling” torso (photo attached, surely a prurient display for the ladies – or not as the case may be), down INTO my belly-button? My shirt was buttoned! What’s with that?!

Indeed, it is a mystery, but one every wood turner will encounter when woodturning. Fine wood chips in your hair, wood chips behind your ears, woodchips in pockets, at your neckline, down your shirt, and yes, believe it or not, many times in your pants in places you’d rather not have them. It is the fate of every wood turner who practices the craft of woodturning.

Enter The Woodturning Smock!

Oh, yeah! (Imitating Tim Allen’s voice), har-har-har! Look at that Woodturning Smock! Perhaps with a logo on it, a high stretch-fabric neckline that seals out pesky chest and belly-button intent chips, and long enough to shield our beltline and butt-cracks from itchy invasion! Oh, and the color! Dark green, or maroon!

And it only cost $50, or $70, or (insert relevant amount here), we manly woodturning Men state with pride!

It was indeed a happy day for me, my “rippling” torso, and my belly-button and butt-crack the day I purchased a commercially available Turning Smock! Now I too could parade about in the shop with the other manly Men, Woodturning Smock proclaiming my status as a clever and ingenious wood turner.

Indeed, the mystery of “Wood Chips Gone Wild” did I defeat, at a cost of $75.

Then, one night it all changed! An Angel shed light upon Neanderthal Darkness.

It was I believe a turning demonstration hosted by the Turning Center out of Philadelphia, held at the Buck’s County Community College. A well known female turner (I don’t remember who) was demonstrating.

Ah, the “herd” of Men standing about, some with Woodturning Smocks proudly on display, shifted to let her by as she prepared for her demonstration. Out came her tools, laid carefully on the bench, and out came her turning blanks as she happily chattered in a melodious voice about what she was going to demonstrate.

Then she commented, “Oh, where’s my Smock?!”, peering about in charming fashion. “Oh, there it is!”, she proclaimed, spying it upon a nearby bench.

We Men were puzzled for a moment as she picked up a man’s dress shirt. Some even smiled condescendingly, their $75 Turning Smocks on display, mentioning a shirt isn’t a very good smock, you still get chips in the front.

The lady turner tossed a quick smile our way and proclaimed in a bright voice, “You put it on backwards silly! I just use one of my husband’s old dress shirts!”.

Mouths agape in disbelief we watched her button up several buttons at the back of her neck, pull down her shirt over her beltline in back. With her neck, arms, and front completely protected, the dress shirt put on backwards also made a perfect and comfortable seal at the neck, with no pockets in front to catch debris and no between-button openings for chips to wiggle through.

And it didn’t cost her a dime.

Aye, several Men were seen in the /facepalm posture for several moments, the “shine” of their wonderful, and costly, Woodturning Smocks diminished! (I couldn’t stop chuckling at myself and several others for about ½ an hour after that little display. What a hoot!)

She turned back to the lathe with a smile on her face and twinkle in her eye, putting on a great demonstration of woodturning bowls with texturing, her home-made Smock working as well as ours.

Woodturning can be a hoot at times, just because of who we are.