Warning: some of the photos here are a tiny bit graphic, so don’t go on if you’re squeamish!

It started with a text message. One I didn’t even take seriously. At first.

I was driving home from Montreal where I had just spent a lovely girls’ weekend with two friends when I got a text. Now I know that texting and driving shouldn’t mix (topic for another blog, that), so we’ll just skip right past that detail to the contents of the message. more…

It is not uncommon for a William Wood-Write customer to wonder how he is going to get all his newly purchased woodworking supplies home and into the shop without his wife asking just how much money he is actually spending on his hobby. more…

I came home from the Ottawa Woodworking Show with an unwelcome souvenir – a yucky flu that has knocked me flat on my back for most of the week. I’ve affectionately dubbed it the Wood Show Wrath. more…

I always struggle with November. It is gray, cold and rainy and the days keep getting shorter and shorter.

This week in particular has made me wish Christmas would hurry up and get here – if only for the colour the whirlwind of the season will bring. It’s not that my life isn’t a whirlwind in itself right now, but the drab grayness and the darkness are starting to get to me. more…

We used to have a deal, my husband and I.

He’s a woodworker, which can be somewhat of an expensive hobby. The deal was that he would make whatever project I picked out, as long as it called for him to buy a new power tool. It worked well – hallway mirror, plant stand, storage bench and built-in window seat for me; steadily growing tool inventory for him.

And then he broke the rule – and that was the end of our fabulous arrangement. Here’s what happened.
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