Wednesday, August 3, 2011

photojournal: our life in tables

We recently re-added my old kitchen table to our house (my sister and her husband had borrowed it for a couple of years), it dawned on me that we have a. lot. of tables. It made me a little uncomfortable at the excessiveness of our table collection, especially with people in the world with barely a roof over their head.

However, I also realized each has it's own story to tell and decided to capture that here...

We migrated to this table soon after Ben's arrival. This cloth stays permanently on the table, at least, when Ben isn't pulling it off. It may be hard to tell, but I had to masking tape over some rips in the cloth - let's just say it's not a good idea to cut your fabric with a rotary cutter on a surface that could be damaged by said cutter. You know, just in case you overshoot the cutting mat.

Where we dined before we outgrew it. Now it serves as my office desk and a catchall (something I'm persistently trying to tackle).

A birthday gift to Dave. This year it's seen few picnics but ample chalk drawings. It also travels about the yard when Dave needs to cut the grass.

We aren't coffee drinkers and it's not a table, but this trunk works hard in our living room. It houses some homeschooling materials, the portable TV when we let the kids watch movies, often books and our feet. Dave found it in his apartment during his years as an intern in Washington.

Formerly used as our work desk, it now is consistently buried in my sewing and crafting projects. And my sewing machine is buried under that quilt I need to complete. ;)
 This is probably Dave's favorite table because it belonged to his grandparents. It sat in our basement for a couple of years until we brought it up last fall during his mom's surprise birthday party. We liked it in it's current spot so much, we let it stay. Once a kitchen and card table, it now extends my sewing table needs, provides an extra spot for the kids to do their school work and occasionally still has a meal eaten upon it.
And this is the table that began this whole post. My kitchen table from the days before I married Dave. It's now his office desk in "man cave" (as he likes to refer to the basement).

Do you have a table or two in your house with a poignant story? What's your favorite memory from sitting around a table?

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