Grease, Oil, Coolant, etc.

Shop smells — not everyone likes ’em. But there’s something satisfying about them. Maybe it’s the subtle whisper as the odor permeates shop rags and clothing that here with the humming machines, creativity enters reality. When you shut off the lathe or mill, what you’ve made doesn’t vanish into some ethereal world of data bytes. It’s tangible — you can put your hands on it. As you remove it from the chuck/collet and wipe it down, you can feel the metal’s heat, the texture of the finish, the weight and substance of what you’ve created. It’s a workpiece meant to do something physical.

Satisfying — because no matter how lofty, how mentally-oriented, how spiritually-minded we like to think we are, we are physical beings as well.

Time to rev the machine for the next project.



About clayfoot2

I'm a Midwest writer, artist, tinker, and jane-of-many-trades with far too many interests. My primary genre is speculative fiction--science fiction, fantasy, steampunk, slipstream, as well as other sub- and sub-sub-genres under that wide umbrella--but I also write poetry and creative nonfiction. "Tinker" is the operative descriptor for me, although "juggler" works, too. I love working with a variety of forms and styles, so my stories range from traditional to literary to experimental. I have the boredom threshold of a three-year-old but the tenacity of a terrier when I'm on any project(s). I enjoy the challenges and adventures of the mind and of life. My husband and our dogs understand. The cat doesn't.
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