
I hate calling folks to fix stuff at the house. I’m kind of an introvert, and having people hanging around just puts me on edge. But more than that, it seems like I ought to be able to do these things myself. And often I can, albeit with an extra trip or ten to the home store.
But sometimes you just need somebody who really knows what they’re doing. And I don’t begrudge this when the situation calls for training and experience. The trades are deep and complex crafts — I admire anyone who has mastered one.
On the other hand, sometimes the only difference between me and “the guy” is that they have the right tool for the job. And that drives me insane — there is no way for me to justify getting a hundred foot power auger or an electrician’s wire puller, but the voice in my head won’t shut up: if you only had one, you could do this yourself!
All of which is just a long-winded way to point out that, especially when you start with the wrong tool for the job, using the right one is a transcendent experience. Nothing makes you appreciate a pair of hose clamp pliers quite as much as a half hour scraping your knuckles with a pair of regular ones.
After re-learning this lesson no less than three times just in the past couple of weeks, I figured it was worth a few words. Let’s see if you agree.
1. There’s a reason they call it a jigsaw
The last phase of Operation Ventura has us changing up the surface of our deck, which admittedly is just ancient poured concrete with more than its share of small cracks. Lara found this amazing Australian company that creates interlocking deck tiles using recycled wood and HDPE plastic. So a few weeks ago a full-on pallet of these things showed up in our driveway. Time to get out the dolly!
The product (creatively named “DECKO”) is really great — I’ll live with it awhile longer before giving a final recommendation, but installation is a breeze and so far they do just fine with our big umbrella and chairs rolling around. Each tile interlocks with its neighbors, and as long as your base surface is flat there is no need for screws or glue. Woot!
But of course the deck isn’t exactly square and it isn’t exactly the perfect size, so at the edges I needed to cut tiles to fit them around railings and posts. Many of the cuts were straight, but others needed to be notched or otherwise re-shaped.
I don’t have a ton of tools here in Ventura, so I needed to buy a saw. The irregular cuts need a jigsaw, so that was easy. And I convinced myself that it could manage the straight cuts as well, using a simple jig to track the parallel edge.
A half dozen destroyed tiles later, I realized that was a really stupid idea. The tiles are super-dense; a jigsaw cuts well enough for small areas, but just doesn’t track a consistent line across a full tile. At least, not unless I wanted to spend ten minutes on every twelve-inch cut. Jigsaw gotta jig.
So I got a chop saw. The cost was tough to eat, and I don’t know where I’m going to store it, but the straight cuts are perfect and quick and painless. I excuse myself by saying that $500 for a saw is still waaaay less than if I paid somebody to install the tiles for me.
2. Sometimes you just need a screw (ha)
An old friend of mine coined the term “CTO physique” which honestly captures me pretty well. I stop paying attention and gain some extra pounds, then eventually knock it down, and then it slowly creeps up again. I accepted this pattern long ago, and it works for me.
It really is all about attention — by tracking how many calories I eat, I can lose weight with pretty minimal work (to be clear this is MY pattern; there are of course many others). Years ago I had a little pocket-sized booklet with a paper dial you could spin to count daily calories. It was phenomenal; best invention ever and far superior to complicated phone apps. But no longer in print and $21 on eBay is too rich for my blood.
The dial is the key, so I decided to design one for my 3d printer. Pretty simple: two discs sandwiched together with a little window with a pointer that keeps count. The only trick was to connect the two discs together so that they’d rotate smoothly when I wanted them to, but not when the counter was sitting in my pocket.
My plan was to print one disc with posts that would press through a hole in the other one, using the elastic pressure of the material to hold them together. Easy, right? Well, let’s look at (just a few) of my attempts:

HA! It turns out that at this small scale (the discs are each 2mm thick), it’s quite difficult to print an accurate post with sufficient elasticity to hold securely without snapping. I won’t go into the details of PLA vs PETG vs ABS filament — and I’m not saying it’s impossible. But it ain’t easy, especially for a relative 3d novice like myself. Printing is just not the right tool for this job.

But it turns out that a Chicago screw is perfect. You often see these used in leatherwork; a two-part fastener that screws together to pull layers of material against each other. Dialing up or down the pressure is makes it easy to find the “sweet spot” with enough friction to turn without slipping on its own. It even looks good!
Part of me is disappointed that I had to abandon an all-printed solution. But a few weeks (and about five pounds) into this round of weight loss, the Chicago Screw has performed flawlessly — definitely the right tool for this job.
3. Don’t let the junior developer (AI) pick the framework
This one probably deserves its own post; the more I learn about coding with AI, the more interesting it is. But that’s not why we’re here today, so that’ll have to wait.
I love a good road trip. Lara and I drive between WA and CA a few times a year, and I’ve been lucky enough to do a few near cross-country routes over the last little while. There’s something about a freeway that I just love — leave your driveway, start moving, and you can go anywhere. Pure escapism.
But the one thing freeways are not good at is giving you a sense of place. The scenery can be beautiful, but the highway system itself is pretty generic (which is not to say I don’t love a good Love’s!). For years I’ve wanted to write an app to provide that missing context — and over the last couple of weeks I finally got it done with the help of my friend Claude Code.
“Points” is not a routing app — it’s meant to run side-by-side with whatever you use for navigation, on a separate device. Its sole purpose is to “look around” your current position and identify cool stuff that you might not otherwise notice: natural features like mountains, rivers and beaches, historic sites and buildings, parks and tourist attractions, that kind of thing.
As you drive, every minute the right pane will update with a new point of interest. If you can’t wait a whole minute, click “Next” to see another one. Click the bell icon to have the device chime each time a new point is shown, so you can keep your eyes on the road. If you want to save one to look at more deeply later, click “Share” to save it away.
The coolest part is the AI integration — although I didn’t want to pay for the entire world, so you need to supply your own Claude API key to use it. For clarity, I never see your key; the app runs completely in the browser and the key is saved only on your device.
When you click “More”, the app asks Claude to generate a one- or two-paragraph description of the point of interest. The response is shown on-screen and read aloud automatically, again so you can keep your eyes on the road. I LOVE this feature — the AI picks out amazing fun facts for incredibly obscure points.
Anyways — I mentioned that I built the app with Claude Code, which was fantastic especially because some of the geolocation work was really gnarly. It was brilliant to be able to describe the behavior I wanted (e.g., “focus your search around the area where I will be in five minutes, based on current direction and speed of travel”) rather than deal with the radians and degrees and Earth’s curvature and all that insanity.
However, when presented with the job of building a web site, Claude really really loves React. And don’t get me wrong, I do too — it’s my go-to framework for building apps. It just turns out that it was absolutely the wrong tool for this job.
Other than the geo stuff, the app is pretty simple: show a map on the left with your current position, find points of interest and pop them in on the right. A few background timers keep track of the user’s location, make sure we keep a “queue” of points by calling Wikidata periodically, and swap in new content when appropriate.
The problem is that React has a very “opinionated” idea of state management — and while timers and global Javascript objects and such can work within this structure, it’s a bit of an awkward struggle. And I finally realized that I wasn’t even getting anything out of React in this case — Claude and I just used it out of habit.
Much like trying to install hose clamps deep inside a washing machine with needle-nose pliers, React was just the wrong tool for the job. In about twenty minutes, I rebuilt it as a simple, plain-old Javascript (ok, JQuery), HTML and CSS one-pager. Suddenly everything fit together perfectly, changes were easy, and the code made sense again.
Magic stuff, and lesson learned, once again. Maybe this time it’ll stick. Unlikely.


























