My life, with humor.

Yet another thank you, Gusby, for providing me with the opportunity to spend my life with an infinitely interesting person.

My wife, whom you may know as Kris, is a sometime quilter. This time, she's last-minute sewing a quilt for her parents' 30th wedding anniversary.

As we're standing outside having our preparatory cigarette, she's lamenting the measurements and the cutting of fabric.

She: "Can you help me with this stuff tonight? You know you're better than I am at these things."

Me: "What things? You mean numbers?"

There was much giggling on my side of the conversation at this point, because I do enjoy teasing her about her math skills, and a look on her side that said out loud, "That's not what I meant, you jack ass." Perhaps she may have actually said it out loud, but I could not hear it over my tittering.

Of course, the look merely made the fit of giggles delve towards the netherland of hysterics, which in turn shaped the look into something else that escapes even my vocabalury skills of description.



-----



On a more serious note, however, I must once again say that I am truly blessed in my choice of life-long companion. As much as I enjoy teasing her about what she considers her weaknesses, she is much too hard on herself, as it is her capability of overcoming all frustrations and obstacles (even in math) that made me (and keeps me) truly, madly, deeply in love with her.

Time for another thank you (and request)!

Hey Gusby,

Just a quick note to say "Thank you!" once again. You've been pretty kind to me and mine over the past few weeks, and we really appreciate it.

From getting a little refund on some overpayments, to perfecting my MIG welding on Day Three (What? Day Two was asking too much?), to tests on materials that I learned well enough that they were easy, life has been good in our house.

I don't have too much to ask for this time around, as the general status quo is a lot higher than it has been in the past, but I do have a couple things.

First, if you could see a way to make my sister-in-law's wedding absolutely perfect, we'd all really appreciate it. She's a high-maintenance chica, but she's good people and deserves to have Her Day be totally fantastic.

Second, there's a phone call that I'd like to make, with the belief that it will improve our lives even more than pretty much anything else that's in the works. Any chance on that one?

Thanks!
-A

Daily, I arrive home grumpy.

Normally, there's a very simple, very easy explanation for my grumpiness: I haven't eaten since 7:30 AM.

As you well know, when I'm hungry, I'm grumpy. It's a fact of my life. It's also very easily overcome. Kris will ask me a question, and I'll respond with, "Ask me after I've eaten."

Coming home today, feeling as usual, eating didn't help. I am still grumpy.

I remember welding with oxy-acetylene, and having every last one of my joints look like perfection.
I remember welding with a 6013 stick, and having every last one of my joints look like perfection.
I remember welding with a 6011 stick.
I remember welding with a 6010 stick.
With a 7024 stick.

Every one last one: perfect.

Today, I moved up to MIG (Metal Inert Gas) welding. Also known as GMAW (Gas Metal Arc Welding). My first issue was that my earliest welds looked like someone had placed very tiny cherry bombs into the weld, and blew holes through the whole thing. An easy fix: I had to turn on the 75% Argon/25% Carbon Dioxide gas mixture that shields the weld from oxidation. Wish my teacher would have helped with that.

After the gas was on, things seemed to be going pretty decently... I was able to finish my welds without any major defects. They still looked like beginner's work.

Two hours of joints looking like I'd never welded with MIG before in my entire life, and the frustration that went along with it... I was grumpy beyond needing to eat.

Then I remembered: I've never welded with MIG before in my entire life. I cannot expect perfection on the first day.

But I'm willing to take it on Day Two, if you're so inclined.

Gusby, beer me the epiphany I require?

In welding shop, we've moved from oxy-acetylene to stick welding, which is a variation of arc welding. You grab a handle, called a Stinger, plug it into a machine, and stick a 12-14" metal rod into it. This rod is coated with various types of chemicals, called flux, and range from things like cellulose potassiate to titanium sodiumzyne, or some crap like that.

We made the switch last week, and I took most of last week to really hone my skills with it. On Friday, I built a free-standing ashtray that stands about waist height on Kris. (Knee height on me.) Perhaps needlessly, I'll say that I picked it up pretty quickly and well. Or so I thought.

See, we started with a rod (also called an electrode) called 6013. The 60 stands for the fact that welds done with it have a 60,000 lb tensile strength. The 1 is for which positions it can be used in... in this case, it's all of them (flat, horizontal, vertical and overhead... the difference between flat and horizontal is the tilt angle of your piece. With flat, it's literally flat on the table. With horizontal, the piece has been tilted 90 degrees, but you still go from left to right or vice versa. This differs from vertical in the fact that even though vertical is also tilted 90 degrees from your work surface, you weld either up or down, as opposed to left to right.) The 3 refers to the type of flux coating on the rod.

So... with 6013, I rock. While we weren't required to weld in all positions (see novelle above), I did, and I can make any joint in any position look pretty damn professional. I got all of my stuff done early on in this week, and started working on another ashtray that we could use at school.

On Wednesday of this week, he moved me up to the 6011 electrode. Okay, pretty easy stuff you'd guess... it's still got the 60,000 lb tensile strength so you know it's made of the same type of steel. It's still got the 1 for all positions. Only the flux coating is different, but... c'mon, honestly, how big of a difference can the flux make on a weld?

So I put my materials for the second ashtray aside, thinking to myself, "I'll just crank out all of my joints today, and spend the rest of the week finishing the ashtray, but this way I stay ahead of the class and can make myself available to help people who aren't picking it up as quickly."

Grabbing a 15 lb pile of steel and a handful of 6011 electrodes, I sit down in my booth and get to work. Now, every day I begin work, I lay a test weld out on a flat piece of steel to help me adjust the amperage, arc length, rod angle and travel speed. A single inch of weld on a piece of scrap is enough for me to adjust everything.

Test weld done, adjustments made, I weld the ever-living shit out of the required three perfect corner joints. Bam, bam, bam, just like that they're finished. Now, I've noticed here that this new rod is a little more sensitive to rod angle and arc length. For example, on a corner joint with the 6013 rod, you could hold it anywhere from a 30-70 degree angle to the joint, and make it work. The 6011, being more sensitive, requires that you maintain a 43-47 degree angle the entire time. This has trained me to be able to hold my breath for the 60-75 seconds a full six inch weld requires.

So, new sensitivity in mind, I lay another test weld for my next joint: the lap joint. This is just two overLAPping pieces of metal, so you're working on the edge of one, and the middle of the other. Okay, tested, readjusted for the new requirements (the amperage changes based on your weld), ready to work. Bam, bam, bam, just like that they're finished.

Two joints, whipped out in a hurry and yet still better than what my teacher ended up with after his demonstrations. I'm not bragging, because it's not bragging if it's the simple truth.

Onto the butt joints. Two pieces of stock that quite literally just butt up to each other. This one is a bit trickier because you need to have a little gap in between them. The gap allows the electrical arc to penetrate between the pieces, melting deeper and allowing more of your filler metal (from the rod) to fuse in there, giving the entire piece an extra level of strength. Now, I learned back on 6013 that the size of the gap should be the radius of the electrode you're using. If you're working with a 1/8" electrode, the gap on your butt should be 1/16"... tight ass. On the 3/32" rod... you got it, 3/64" gap. That's a damn small gap, and stupidly difficult to measure. Instead of measuring, I guestimate... and if it looks a little small, I crank the amps up by 5 or 10 to burn a little deeper. If it's bigger, I turn the amps down, so as not to weld these two pieces of steel to my work table. I've seen it happen, and it's pretty damn difficult to remove. Remember that 60,000 lb tensile strength? Yeah, good luck getting that off with a pair of pliers.

I space my stock, lay a test weld, adjust appropriately. Bam, bam, bam, just like that they're finished. Three of the four required welds (on which the class as a whole will be working for at least a week and a half) in the first 20 minutes of class.

Feeling very proud of myself, I polish them up, knock off the little spatters (or as my instructor likes to say, "pigeon shit"), and write my name on them. Walking away from the table we leave our finished work on, I hear George bellowing behind me, "Loopa! C'mere!"

Grinning internally, I turn around and march back.

"What the hell is this shit, man?" he says, pointing to my work.

"Those are my corners, laps and butts on the 6011, George," I reply truthfully.

"Nuh uh, man. No way you're done with this shit yet. Who did this for you?" At this point, he begins to look around to see if there are any juniors or seniors around.

"George," I say laughingly, "these are mine, I just did them. That one is still warm."

"Loopa, that's some major bullshit. Which booth is yours? I'mma come watch you do more of these, and if they ain't this good, you gonna be in some shit for cheating."

Shrugging, I lead the way to my booth, lay out my materials, grab a rod, feed it to the Stinger, slap my helmet down. BAM! A beautiful little corner weld that, if I do say so myself, was even better than the three I turned in.

George walks away, shaking his head in disbelief and muttering. All I caught was, "Boy gotta be eatin', sleepin' and shittin' stick."

Now, onto the fourth and final weld, 30 minutes into my 3 hours long lab. The T joint... A flat piece of steel with another piece welded into the center at a 90 degree angle... pretty straight forward. A test weld, readjustments, and I begin.

Looks like shit. Okay... more adjustments. Shit. More. Shit. More. Shit.

Okay, something isn't right here... So I grab a grinder and grind my table down, to make sure that I've got a good ground on it, to allow the full electrical current to pass through the weld as it needs to.

More shit, three times.

Here are some of the different variations I tried:

125 amps (max for this rod), 80 degree vertical rod angle, 20 degree horizontal rod angle, slow speed.
125 amps, 45 degree vertical, 20 degree horizontal, slow speed.
125 amps, 80 degree vertical, 45 degree horizontal, slow speed.
125 amps, 45 degree vertical, 45 degree horizontal, slow speed.
125 amps, 80 degree vertical, 20 degree horizontal, fast speed.
125 amps, 45 degree vertical, 20 degree horizontal, fast speed.
125 amps, 80 degree vertical, 45 degree horizontal, fast speed.
125 amps, 45 degree vertical, 45 degree horizontal, fast speed.

Eight more times, at 110 amps.
Eight more times, at 100 amps.
etc.
Eight times at 75 amps.

64 welds, with nearly every possible configuration. Sixty four.

Over the course of the last two hours on Wednesday, and all three hours on Thursday, I failed sixty four times in a row.

In the midst of all of this frustration, I was called upon to share my technique with others on the corners, laps and butts, which still went perfectly... so I know that my machine wasn't malfunctioning. It was entirely user error. Replace User and Press Any Key.

Well guess what? I can't find the fucking Any key.

Gusby, I'm begging you... please grant me the epiphany that needs to happen in order for me to lay this weld.

I thought maybe I was being cocky or arrogant, and so you were holding me back a little as a gesture not to get too full of myself... but, while my stories may suggest otherwise, I don't believe I am being cocky or arrogant.

Proud... yes. Pleased with my progress... yes.

But I drop everything I'm working on any time anyone asks me for help. I offer my advice in constructive and friendly ways, with a smile and a pat on the back so that the person who asked knows that I don't think I'm better than they are. I go to school early, giving up sleeping in for an hour and a half, in order to work with people who are struggling.

I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I have been given a gift with this... and I fully appreciate it, even if it means I get shit from the other guys for being a teacher's pet. I am the go-to guy when people have problems, be it in math, blueprint reading, or welding. Not only do I realize that it is my ethical responsibility to help these people, I enjoy it. I really like seeing the expressions that happen when, click, it all falls into place and they suddenly understand something they were struggling with.

I'm not used to being the one struggling... and Gusby... you're my me. Can you flip the switch and put that expression on my face?

Thanks.

Thank you for keeping my life interesting.

Gusby ol' friend, ol' pal, I have to thank you once again.

Thank you for keeping my life interesting. There are, of course, many stories which I could share with you and the world, but I'll focus on just one.

Standing in my garage with my lovely wife, we begin the conversation with a little anecdote. To preface, I had just taken Zeus (and only Zeus) to the mailbox to get the mail.

Kris: Tuck criiiied, and cried and cried when you took Zeus out. Wanted nothing to do with me or his rope.

Me: Yeah, that's not surprising.

Kris: He went nuts trying to get Zeus' scent, but since the whole house smells like Zeus, it was a no-go.

Me: Well, Zeus walked out the door and was therefore gone forever, so he had to take a picture to remember him by, the only way a dog can.

Kris: I think that when Zeus dies, Tuck will have the hardest time with it.

Me: Well, we'll just distract him with a new puppy then.

Kris: You know what would break my heart? If Zeus died while we were out at work or something, and we came home to find Tuck all cuddled up to him.

Me: Heh, yeah, that would suck.

Kris: What would be even more upsetting though is if Tuck started eating his dead body.


Ahh, Gusby, truly you have blessed me with an interesting woman with whom to spend the rest of my life.

Seriously?

Damn, Gusby... you were a little more open with some people about the gifts you handed to them at birth.

Some people, you told them flat out: When you're 3, you'll learn to golf and become one of the most highly paid, famous golfers in the world. But you have to fight racism in Pro Golf to do it.

Another person was told: You will write music that last centuries and is loved by millions. But you'll never hear half of it, because you'll be deaf when you write it.

A third, and this is my favorite, was given: You will dominate Guitar Hero 3 on Expert, becoming one of maybe four or five people in the world who can complete "Through the Fire and Flames" by Dragonforce. But (and you really are a "but" guy, aren't you?) you'll absolutely never get laid, because you'll have to be the world's geekiest controller-modifier.

Seriously, Gusby, if you could just give me a little clue as to what my extraordinary ability is, some little snippet of information that'll set me on the path to greatness, I'd love it.

In the meantime, for those of you with more corporeal bodies who want to see what I'm talking about with the third example of Gusby's sense of humor... check this.