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

It's Feathered Nest Friday at the French Country Cottage.  Click here!

My Romantic Home is home to Show And Tell Friday.  Click here!

At The Charm of Home, it's Home Sweet Home Friday.  Click here!

When Bookworms Wed

When Alida told us back in January that she
and her boyfriend Josh were engaged,
and getting married in June . . . my mind kicked into gear:
how to take a fairly standard New Jersey style wedding
and make it special for these two young people?

Their major requests were pretty simple -- great food and a big dance floor.

Easy.  A good catering hall with an excellent kitchen and a savvy manager handles that.

But what about something different for the table centerpieces at the reception?

 Josh and Alida are both bibliophiles; they'd have their noses in books even if they weren't in graduate school.

So, my first thought was to use antique philosophy books and old books with romantic titles in the table centerpieces. 

But the thought of finding at least 3 dozen vintage books that weren't too icky to put on the tables was, well, daunting.

I looked around the house; we have zillions of books of our own, including some vintage, but not enough perfect ones.

If you can't find them, you make them.

Daughter Anne, the maid of honor and an artist, pulled 36 hardcover books at random off our shelves,

removed the original dust jackets, and substituted beautiful paper covers in fresh, clean bridal white.

Cheating here -- this is in our dining room, taken 3 days after the wedding, not at the reception.

The flowers are not only wilted, they've been abused.  We took them out to dump the water as we were leaving the reception, and just sort of shoved them back in afterward.  Not a careful procedure!

Anne wanted to write funny, pun-y titles on the book spines, but I decided that we were dealing

with siblings here, and you never know quite where that will take you.  They stayed blank.

Now I'm kind of sorry she didn't do it, but then I would have wanted to save the book covers, too.

The table numbers on the satin ribbon bookmarks?  Cheating again for the camera.

Anne made them, but we didn't get them to the catering hall in time to use them.  Bummer.

The books and flowers stood on a square of mirror, in the center of each big round table.

Tablecloths and napkins were ivory damask, nice and heavy and brand new.

I hope someone else got pictures of the tables, because I did not!

Scattered on each table, frosted white votive holders with long-burn candles (unscented) inside.

I have 83 of these votives (one broke).  What am I bid?   :-)

They do look very bride-y, and give a softer glow than clear glass.

But even I don't need 7 dozen votive holders.

Perfect centerpieces?  No.  I had asked the caterer's florist, who did the table flowers, to use a lower container, and use trailing greens, so the flowers ended up higher than I had wished.  But that's a small thing, and they were beautiful and looked as if they'd been gathered from someone's garden -- roses in creams and pinks, with pink Peruvian lilies and delicate ferns.  All good. 

Now someone come and force me to toss all the flowers in That Old House!  -- Cass

Our obligatory wedding pic of the day:

Josh and Alida, in the garden at Zeris Inn in Mountain Lakes, New Jersey