All my friends know that I’ve been a “ukulele nut” for most of my life. A girlfriend in college gave me my first real uke, a mahogany Martin Style 0 that she bought at a thrift store for the whopping sum of one dollar. For years, I carried that uke everywhere, strumming it on backpacking trips in the Sierras, at parties (much to the chagrin of revelers that found the sound only a little less pleasant than an accordion/banjo duet), and when my friends sang on the streets of downtown Santa Cruz for spare change.
A few weeks ago, my wife and I embarked on a trip to Belgium for our first vacation since our honeymoon three years ago. With visions of waffles, French fries, chocolate, beautiful architecture, and amazing beer racing through our minds, I was likewise excited to spend two weeks with few (if any) thoughts related to woodworking. I lasted less than a day.