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Bad memory, or too much stuff?

I recently talked about making a cutting board for the first time after decades of woodworking. Turns out I was wrong.

How many things have you made? Come on, give me a number. You can’t, can you? Well, neither can I apparently, since only days after blogging that I’ve never made a cutting board in my entire woodworking life, I find out that I have.

I couldn’t begin to guess how many things I’ve made over the years, much less remember what every one of them was. That’s never really bothered me, since a lot of things that come out of the shop are utilitarian and not particularly memorable. Or they were assignments or commissions I just needed to get done. But things I put a lot of thought into design-wise because they’re gifts, I usually remember.

Well, after finishing that cutting board for my niece I wanted the oil finish to have plenty of time to cure before wrapping and sending it to her. As luck would have it, Sally decided to visit her sister this weekend, so no need to wrap and send it just now. Sally could take it with her and her sister could wrap it for our niece a bit closer to Christmas. That was when Sally’s sister opined that the cutting board was as nice as the one I made her a couple years ago.

Wait, what? I did? I have zero memory of that. None. No idea what it looked like, what combination of wood I used, or even what shape it was. Nothing. And even being reminded about it doesn’t help – I still don’t remember it. But, rather than succumb in a pit of despair over a failing memory I choose instead to take the high road: I’ve simply made too many great things to remember them all. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

If I remember it.

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