Old. I think.

A couple Sundays ago, Ryanne and I went to look at some antiques.

We scored a few things, including this backbreaker:

At first we thought it was a bookshelf. But then we noticed the drawer behind some paintings that were leaning against it. So we settled on it being a china cabinet, despite its serious lack of cabinetry.

It's supposed to be from the New England area and was apparently found in a church basement. I'm not sure if that's true. But I did spend a little time trying to figure out how old it is. 

Pretty much any furniture built in America before 1870 used handmade dovetail joints in drawer construction. Machining wasn't well-developed enough at the time to replicate it.

Sweet huh?

But things change. And most furniture made between 1870 and 1900 used a Knapp joint. This was machine-made and looks much different than the dovetail.

Although in 1900, machining came around to the point where the dovetail could be replicated and mass produced. There wasn't anything wrong with the Knapp. People just wanted their furniture to look like older handmade furniture - even though it was going to be built with machines.

So, people were dumb back then, too.

But anyway - seeing my drawer doesn't have a Knapp joint, I can rule out 1870-1900. And I know for sure this thing isn't from around the Civil War era. Twentieth century, it is.

There are two slotted screws in it. They hold the drawer hardware in place. Phillips-head screws are relatively new, so that would have pointed to it being mid 1940's or later.

Slotted-head screws can be really old, but most screws were at least partially machined by the mid-1800's, so it's tough to identify them. Mine are pretty dull and the threads are inconsistent, so they're somewhat old.

I think.

I'm guessing 1910's to 1930's. Although when I'm 85 years old and half-crippled with blown out knees, this thing will probably fall on me, and in my final moments I'll see a made in China sticker on the bottom side.

The paint on it is in pretty good shape, though. There are definitely some scratches and blemishes, especially on the top of the two shelves. But, who cares? The only treatment it'll probably get is a little Pledge.

The world could use a little more imperfection.

And it'll start in my kitchen...

Or bedroom.

I just need to decide if it's a bookshelf or china cabinet, first.

Dribble Dribble

The summer in Western PA has been pretty wet.

Getting home from work when it's still 95 degrees and 100% humidity has been a drag. The three hills that climb out the back of my neighborhood have also been a drag.

Last week, I felt ambitious in the heat.

I open my basement door and roll my El Mariachi out. The sticky swelter winds up and punches me in the face. My contacts get displaced. My pores open up. I rub my eyes with gloves still unwashed from my last few rides at Kennerdell. The smell of glory and creek water invade my nostrils. It stinks.

I shut the door and leave behind a safe haven of air conditioning and unlimited Internet access. I nearly trip on something on the back patio.

"Shit." Looks like a raccoon got into the garbage.

Just kidding. That didn't happen until a few days later.

: /

I begin the first climb out. The pores are still open. I start to welcome distractions.

To my right, there's a roofer laying shingles, baking in the heat. Another random guy is standing next to him, just watching him cook. He looks down at me like I'm a dumbass. In this moment, he's probably right.

I lift up my wool cap to let some air in.

To my left, a middle-aged guy accepts Pizza Hut delivery. With a wide, unnatural kinky-like grin on his face, he grips the steaming box and quickly shuts his front door. He knows the only thing separating him and meat lovers delight is a quick volume adjust on DVR'ed Pawn Stars.

The 18 year-old delivery driver retreats to his own air conditioned vessel. He shuts the car door and hurriedly catches up on the barrage of text messages received during his two-minute mission.

I smell something good. Something's cooking. It's either the pizza or that roofer finally succumbed to the broil. I look back to see. Can't see through the haze. I assume he's still with us.

The pores are pouring.

I'm halfway up the last hill. I hear a ball bouncing a short distance away. Dribble dribble. There's a kid I always see playing basketball. His house is at the top of the hill. Dribble dribble. He's small. Probably six or seven. Dribble. A car rolls past me, but I don't hear it. All I hear is the ball bouncing up and down. Faster. Quicker. Mini dribbles coming from his mini body. The hill pitches up. I'm too tired to steer around the drainage grate. Rumble rumble. My wide tires roll over it. Dribble dribble. My heart beat matches the cadence of the bouncing. I get to the end of his driveway. The ball looks like it'd be too big for Scottie Pippen. The dribbling stops. He tosses up a fast lay-up. Braang! The ball hits the bottom of the rim, and bounces back and hits him in the head. He falls over.

I stop. I'm a few feet from the top of the hill. I ask him if he's OK. He gets up and nods his head. I contemplate a quick downhill back to my house. The heat weighs on me. I wipe my forehead. I imagine Pizza Hut on my table. I think about Rick and Chumlee.

I clip in, about to do a 180 toward the bottom.

And then, dribble dribble. 

The kid's back at it. I loop around and crest the hill, continuing on in the fever. Ahead of me, warm motivation. Behind? More dribble dribble.

-This past weekend was nice, though. Pretty mild and sunny. And the extra day off was great.

Ryanne and I did some hiking / hill sprinting / trail jogging in the woods. We did 12 miles on Friday, then another 14 on Saturday.

On Sunday, we rode mountain bikes together for the first time in a long time.

This morning, I drove to the Y before heading into work. My leg was aching just pushing the clutch in. I was smoked after two workouts. I was never so eager to get to the locker room and jump in the steam room with a bunch of old guys.

Most of these photos were already posted to the Face.  Sorry for the rehash. The pixels look better here.