Spent the day doing what I had told #2 sis I would be doing in the e-mail I sent, i.e. making shelves for my bookcases. Yup, the cases are nice, but without shelves, they can hold no books. I haven't actually finished any shelves at this point. I spent a good bit of the time experimenting, running pieces of scrap wood across my table saw, either cutting rabbets with the blade, or cutting various bead profiles with a beading bit set attached to the hitherto never used shaper head attachment. Here's the deal. The shelves are cut from the same plywood as the rest of the cases. If I don't somehow cover the front edges of the shelves with something, you'll be able to see the plies that make up the plywood. Not at all attractive.
The solution is to take a piece of maple strip 1" high by 3/4" deep, put a rabbet on the back of it, and attach it to the front edge of the shelf. The plies get covered, and you can do all sorts of snazzy things to the front edge, like putting in some sort of bead detail. The shelf winds up looking thicker, too (1" thick, instead of 3/4"). Now I just need to make thirty-two of them, or so.
This turns out to be another annoyance, because I only have two sheets of the maple/birch plywood left which is enough to make only thirty shelves. I don't even know if that stuff is a regular item at the Depot. I'll have to check tomorrow, and pick up another sheet is they have it. Meanwhile, I ripped the two sheets I do have into 9" wide planks, from which I'll cut the shelf blanks.
Other than that, it was a gorgeous day, despite having spent a good portion of it in the basement. My daffodils are in full bloom, and the tulips are budding. The lawn is greening up, and I'll need to start cutting it this week. I even had the windows open in the afternoon. Even went outside long enough to take a picture...
Started reading Needle by Hal Clement, arguably the first SF/mystery novel ever written. It's about an alien police officer who crashes on Earth while in pursuit of a criminal of his own race. His people are a race jellyfish-like symbiotes. They can exist on their own, but are terribly vulnerable in their own forms, so they generally live in a host body. The alien's host is killed in the crash, so he has to take shelter in the body of a human boy while he looks for his criminal counter part.
I read it before many, many years ago, but I still remember it vividly. Which is kind of a shame, because I do remember whodunnit, but the book is as much about the boy and the alien learning to live with each other as it is about the mystery.