I’ve been woodworking since my dad taught me how to use a hammer and a saw in our basement workshop about many years ago.  I took woodshop in junior high where I started my fascination with small boxes.

My next chance to do woodworking was as a student at Navy Nuclear Power School in Orlando, FL.  They had a woodshop on base, and I managed to build a bookshelf and a reproduction antique portable writing desk (actually, two of them) in the six months I was stationed there.

Then, finally, in about 1990, I was renting a house with some friends, and built a workbench, bought a table saw and a few hand tools, and set out on this journey.

Now on my sixth woodshop location, and with (just about) the proper set of tools, I spend a bit of my leisure time building projects as gifts, for family and friends, and pick up an occasional commission piece to work on.

My day job, at Microsoft, pays the bills, so this is really just for fun.  Maybe someday, when I’m done with the corporate world, I’ll make woodworking a full-time job.  Or not.  Why ruin a perfectly good passion by adding the stress of having to make a living from it?