19 June 2010

Kitchen table.

There has always been something special about a kitchen table for me.  Most people would call it a dining room table, but we didn't have a dining room when I was growing up, so it was in the kitchen.  As a kid there were 7 of us and we sat around the dinner table every night.  It was family time, and I have very fond memories of that table.

Here's the lineup of hungry people who abused that table on a daily basis:

One time, in particular was when someone started the "shut-up" game.  It went like this:

Dad: "Shut up, Joey"
Joey: "Shut up, Angel"
Angel: "Shut up, Daniel"

And so it went all the way around the table.  Don't ask how it started.  If only I knew.  At any rate, it got to the very end, and I was the last one.  There was only one person that hadn't been told to shut up yet, and that was my dad.  So without thinking, I say, "Shut up, Daddy."

Like I said, I wasn't thinking.  And I told my dad to shut up.  It didn't go over well.  But, he was the one who started the whole game, so it was kinda his fault to begin with (love you, Daddy!).

Then there was the time that me and my sister were painting our toenails on the table.  You know... where every 10 year old should.  And like any 10 & 7 year olds, we knocked over the entire bottle of fingernail polish remover onto the table and floor.

Guess what? That takes the finish right off of the table!

So why wouldn't it take those sparkles off of our fingernails?  The world may never know.

That table (and my parents entire home, for that matter) also survived when my sister threw a match in the trashcan.  A lit match.  In the trashcan that was underneath the kitchen sink.  You know... where my mom would get the water to put out the fire?

To be fair, my sister was maybe 3 or 4 years old.

But when me and my brother came home from school that day, the table was completely covered in canned green beans (oh my, and that's a whole different story as to why we had so many green beans).  The kitchen cabinets next to the sink were completely empty.  And there were burn marks on the linoleum floor.

And my mom and sister were no where to be found.

It was eerie to have a quiet house in disarray and no one home.  Especially when it was normally bouncing with activity.

But the table survived.  That old table has survived a lot.

And my brother has dibs on it when my parents die.  If for any reason he doesn't get it, I'm totally next in line. And my sister is next in line after me.  My brother apparently put dibs on it years ago, because when I asked about it 5 years ago, he'd already claimed it.

Keep in mind, my parents are extremely healthy and both still working full time jobs.  We just... you know... have dibs on the table for when they die.

Like any normal family.

For now, this is my table.

We were given a very large, unfinished wooden table 3 years ago.  The person that gave it to us knew that it was too big for us, but also knew that Josh knew how to barter and trade things around to get something useful to us at that time.

And he did!  Josh used to work at an unfinished wood furniture store, so he called them up and explained the situation.  They gladly traded that huge table for in store credit, which is how we got our hands on this set.  The best part was that we got to choose what colors we wanted it stained, so it matched us perfectly.  In case you can't tell, everything is black except for the tops of the seats and the top of the table, which are a very deep brown.

And voila!  Our own perfect table.  Now, I completely expect to outgrow this within the next 10 years, but it's perfect for now.

But let me tell you, if any 10 year old comes at it with fingernail polish remover, I'll chuck them out one of those windows!

What are your memories of the kitchen/dining room table?

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