Former technician. Full-time tinkerer.

I'm Tyler — the Tinkering Catdad. I spent years fixing things for a living; now I make things because I can't not. Most of it happens on a portable rig out on the patio — the TinkerForge — under close and constant feline supervision.

Most pieces start with store-bought stencils. I combine them, arrange them, and finish or rework the designs where they need it; once in a while I freehand. Then it's burn, paint, and patience.

$The maker's mark: a bindrune burned into scorched wood$ Some projects take an afternoon. Some take months. When there's room on the piece, it gets my maker's mark: a bindrune for my wife, me, and the cats who run this place. When there isn't, it doesn't. No paint-pen afterthoughts.

The Laws of the Hoard

I make stuff. Like it or don't.
This hobby has an audience of one: me. You're welcome to watch.
Want to collaborate, swap tricks, or build something together? Pull up a camp chair.
Here to tell me my technique is wrong? [redacted]

Life in the TinkerForge

View from the workbench chair on the patio: a Liberty sign drying on the table while two cats each claim a camp chair — The TinkerForge. Yes, it's a patio. Chairs are assigned by the cats.

A grey-and-white cat and a black-and-white cat asleep on a blanket, one curled in front of the other — Upper management, in a strategy meeting.

Gideon, a grey-and-white cat, staring straight at the camera with the tip of his tongue poking out — Upper management, in a strategy meeting.

A small sleeping cat engraved in outline on a steel hammer-head handle — The original guardian, engraved on my cane. The logo cat is drawn from this one.

Through the Weaver's lens

The other side of the bench

I'm usually the one holding the camera, pointed at the wood. These are Bethy's: the TinkerForge from where she sits.

Selfie of Bethy and Tyler, cheek to cheek and smiling, in front of a snowy riverbank. He wears a flat cap and a blue sweater — The Tinkerer and the Weaver, off the patio for once.

Rorschach, a black-and-white tuxedo cat, sitting on a cushion and looking out over the patio workbench — The foreman surveys the site.

Tyler in a flat cap and green sweater at the patio workbench, Rorschach curled in his lap, paint bottles and two mugs on the table — Rorschach, supervising from the only seat that matters.

Looking out through the patio door at Tyler at the workbench in an olive shirt and cap, a lawn and the neighboring building behind him — The view from the patio door.

Rorschach peering over Tyler's shoulder as he sits in a camp chair on the patio — Over-the-shoulder review.

Rorschach stretched out on the patio concrete under a camp chair, next to a cordless drill and two tins — QA has inspected the drill. QA is not impressed.

Tyler hunched over a computer case on an indoor bench, foam blasters hanging on the wall behind him — Some builds come inside, under the blaster rack.

Tyler sitting on the lawn beside a tree stump where Gideon, a grey-and-white cat, is lying — Gideon, holding a one-on-one on the lawn.

A cozy living room in winter, fairy lights strung around a snowy window, Tyler in a chair and two cats on the floor nearby — Winter. The forge moves indoors. Management does not.

Patio visitors

A safe place to land

Birds, turkeys, Squirrel Murray, deer, and the occasional stray cat. There's always a can of pâté in reserve, and the catnip and cat grass grow right on the patio. Visitors come and go.

A deer grazing near a tree at the edge of the lawn while Gideon sits in the grass watching it — **Deer watch**The deer eats. Gideon watches. Nobody makes a move.