The Slow Climb Back To Normal, And An Old Oak Table in Distress

I know.  I know.  
Normal?  Seriously?

Well, we're talking as close to normal as

That Old House ever gets.

Oh come on, confess.  How normal is your house?

So, the big fresh Christmas tree in the Conservatory came down,

the fallen needles got vacuumed up, the chandelier was re-hung,

and the table put back in place.

Notice anything odd? 

The center leg looks like it's been on an all-night bender

and can't stand up straight.  Because it can't.  Not for long.
It also goes AWOL and falls off, if given the chance.

This is a grand old oak table that was in my Great Aunt Margaret's

Brooklyn home.  Long, long ago.  It has countless leaves,

and can stretch out to about 6 miles long.

Here it is, in January 2010, in the Sunroom with the old wall color,

old carpeting, and our dear old dog Dion.

We used to be able to carefully stretch it out to accommodate 

at least several of those leaves, but now?  Everything falls apart.

Also January 2010

We managed this past Thanksgiving to put in some leaves,

but it was touch-and-go, and our guests never knew how close

they came to wearing their gravy in their laps.  I hope.

Moving the table into the kitchen for Christmas,

to make room for the tree in the Conservatory, was an adventure.

Parts fell off.  Legs.  Screws (below). 

Random bits of dry old wood exploded out of its innards.

We made a stab at fixing it, but it was at best a Band-Aid on a compound fracture.

The working mechanisms for an old table like this,

with their many moving parts, are elaborate, intricate, delicate,

clever, and completely ingenious.  Trouble is, me and Howard?

Clever and ingenious do not describe our woodworking skills.

Conservatory, Oct 2010, new carpeting, new paint.  Old table - still working.

 So now we need to decide, Howard and I, how to fix a much-loved table
that has served my family, in one house or another, for a century.

I've called a couple of furniture restorers; so far, no one's returned my call.

I suspect no one wants to tackle this table!

Meanwhile,

the table is usable, without any leaves; we don't mind the bit
of wiggle, and we're careful not to stress the dear old thing.

 Today, I realized it needed a quick centerpiece,

and had a pinecone wreath ready to help out.

The snowman looks silly, but he asked for a chance at stardom.

 I thought the glass with the silver balls would work.  But -- no.

This one, below, looks ... well, it looks awful.  Dreadful.

It's a bad thing to mix growing greens with plastic ones.

The winner of the world's Saddest Philodendron Award.

Finally.  Below.  Good enough, and doesn't make me cringe.

 A lantern, left over from a wedding at a country club.

We did not steal it.  Really.  No, really.  Probably.

Anyway, the gold blob inside is an LED battery powered candle, of realistic wax,

that, just like a real candle, melted into goo in the sun.

Now that's what I call realism!  :-)

Equally real -- the difficulty of getting melted wax out of the darned lantern.

Okay, done.  Wrote this piece Friday, then got distracted, and am finally

posting in the wee hours of Saturday morning.  Yawn.

Happy weekend! -- Cass

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