My husband is a saint

I've wanted to make over the dining room for awhile.  And I wanted to start with a new table.  We've loved the one we have. Just an IKEA wood table we bought 7-8 years ago.  It's held up very well but I just wanted a change.  I searched around for a new table and every one I wanted was WAY more than I wanted to pay for it.

So, I decided I was going to make one.  (Of course you did. As my sister would say :)  I found instructions for a sturdy farm house table, started pricing wood, etc.  And then I thought I really just wanted to do a different table top.

Anyway, to make a long story short, after talking to Aaron about it, we decided to use the table we had and just add a new table top.  So much easier!!

We were going to make one that lifted off the existing table but then that got to be too much and too heavy, so the new top went straight onto the old one.

I already knew what I wanted to do.  A herringbone design.  So off to Home Depot I went to get wood, glue, sandpaper, etc.

I measured out the table and wood as best I could (me and my math skills) and then just went for it.  Aaron helped cut the wood since the table saw makes me nervous. I hate it when the wood kicks back and flies of the table if you're not doing it just right.

Then came the fun part.

I got out my handy nail gun I got for Christmas the year before.   Yippee!

And I basically just keep nailing until I covered the entire table.  Some angles got the teeniest bit off, so I had to fill the cracks in with slivers of wood and putty. 

Then came the messy part.  Sanding.  This table is big and heavy so we just kept it in the dining room while I worked on it.  So now I hung sheets over the doorways hoping to keep some of the sawdust out of the rest of the house.

I sanded and sanded.  And then Aaron cut off the edges of the nailed pieces of wood to line up with the edges of the real table.  I tried but I couldn't keep my lines straight! I added strips of 2 x 1/4 in to the sides to cover up the line between the two tops.

Now came the scary part.  I chose poplar because of price and variation of the wood but it is notoriously hard to stain just right.   I thought I could handle it but now that the time came I knew I was just going to mes it up.

This is where my husband's patience comes in.  I started this table in....yikes.  I just looked up when I took that first picture and it was Jan 17th, folks.   That's how long our dining room has been out of commission!  Ok, I've been done a few weeks now but still!  My sweetie is a saint and was just supportive as I figured out what I was going to do.

And I warn everyone that was where my own, personal Crazy started peeking. 

1. Tried "Driftwood" stain to bleach it out and add grey. The look I was going for.
2. One coat, waited two days, second coat.  And don't like it.  Just looks dirty, mottled, messy.
3. Sand everything down.  And set it aside for a week to come up with Plan B. (Yes, I did test it in a smaller piece of wood.)
4. Decided to change look completely and go for a dark brown finish.
5. Stain looked great!  But you totally lost the pattern I had worked so hard to make. Waited a few days, still didn't like it. Didn't take a picture.
8. Sanded it all down.
9. With the two different stains and sandings, the top actually looked like I wanted it!  Happy mistakes!
10. Polyurethaned it to finish, seal and protect.
11. Poly completely drew out all the yellow. So nothing looked grey or bleached out anymore, just yellow.
12. Found out most poly's did that.
13. Found a "non-yellowing" poly finish.
14. Sanded everything down again.
15. Used the non-yellowing finish on the table.  All the yellow was again showing up on the wood!
16. Decided "I hate this table." And just left it

 Aaron loved it. Or atleast said he did because was as done with this table as I was. I painted the legs a dark grey because that's what I had in the garage and then I decided I didn't care anymore and left it. 

  I

For about a month....but in the back of my head, I just didn't like it.  It's not what I had in my head and after mulling it over for a few weeks, I decided I didn't want to leave it when it wasn't what I wanted. 

I know. It's my Crazy.

I knew enough to wait until Aaron went out of town for two days so he didn't have to see this crazy.  And yes, I sanded it all down a.g.a.i.n.  No judging.  I am aware.

I decided to color my own wax from a stain I had and just used wax.  And I now love it!  No, the wax isn't as durable as polyurethane, but I'm not caring at this point.

Aaron handled it perfectly and just smiled when he got home and said he loved it too. 

I know it's not everyone's taste but I love it and when I get the whole dining room together, I'm thinking it'll all look great.

I have these whites Eames-knock off chairs I want to put in here with upholstered end chairs.
 

I also painted the room again. From a beigey-green to white.  Changed out the chandelier (which is a whole other story) and added curtains so far.  (I still need to hem them.)  I want to do a paneled wall and add art work but that comes in stages. I've moved on right now. We painted and decorated on of the guest bedrooms and I painted the playroom, which had paint test patches on it for two years.

 

Anyway, back to the table. I like that it's a bit rustic, nail holes, imperfect wood, etc.

I took a long time.  Longer than I ever thought.  But I'm pleased and I am so grateful for my dear husband who was patient and supportive the whole time, even though we had enough sawdust in the house you'd think we rebuilt the entire dining room. 

 I haven't told him yet but I've a hankering for more nail gun projects.  I have a few that have been rolling around in my head for a while.

But don't worry honey, these ones will take shorter than 4 months, I promise.

I'm a fake

I kill plants.   Every time.  I don't know what it is.  I always give them too much water.  Not enough water.  Too much or not enough of something.  Every time.

But I keep trying anyway.  This time I knew I had a lot stacked against me but I wanted pots out by the front door. Pots that would get very little direct sunlight.  Like hardly any.  I searched for shade plants as best I could, planted them, gave them a good watering and crossed my fingers.

I watered them every other day really well but of course it wasn't right.  Everything died on me, like always.  So I had a decision. 

- Buy more plants and keep trying to not kill them.
- Don't have pots out at all.
- Go fake.

I know some people are vehemently against fake plants but that is all I have in my house.  I love greenery but my thumb is just not green. Not even a hint.  And I'd never ventured the fake stuff out side.

Then IKEA and Michael's had some cute, semi-realistic looking greenery and I said to heck with it, Fake it is.

(Everything looks a little askew in this picture.  I've fixed the leaves but too frustrated with my computer to upload a new picture. And before we put up our little sign, we had solicitors stopping by to chat ALL THE TIME. I had to put a stop to it. Some still stop by even with a sign.)

I like it.  It fits my "Set it & Forget it" mentality of plants and nothing has to come to my house to die.  I consider it a win-win.

I also bought a new rug and saturated it with water-proofing stuff to help keep the stains and junk down. 

Yep, all about low maintenance around here.

Life & Times #6

This story actually focuses on our little sister Amanda. She kindly gave me permission to write this one out.  I would not want this story lost to our progeny.  For years she couldn't talk about this incident even though we all thought it was hilarious.  I guess you just don't understand unless you were the one left naked in the middle of the lake.

It was a holiday of some sort and we had gone to swim in a nearby lake with close family friends. I can't remember all the details but Dads and older sibling were not there.  I do remember it was cloudy and not too hot so we had Fox Lake basically to ourselves.    I was 13, our friend Heather was 13 as well and Amanda was 11.  We swam out a ways and played in the water.  There was nobody else around and things got boring real fast, so we came up with a most fabulous idea.

What if we all changed bathing suits in the dark water of the lake and then went into lunch and see who notices?!  We thought we were just hi-larious.  So that's what we did.  We quickly did the ol' switcheroo and swam back to the shore.

Of course our mothers noticed right away and were for some reason not as amused as we were.  3 preteen daughters changing suits out in the open water?   Not funny.

But we were so amused with ourselves. After lunch we swam back out in the water to change back into our original suits.  Both Heather and I made our hand offs without any incident but something happened with Amanda, and just like our mothers forewarned, she missed the toss and in a split second her suit was swept into the dark depths of Lake Fox.  Gone.

We searched and searched but that suit was no where.  Being the wonderful and supportive friend and sister, Heather and I busted up laughing from shock and the hilarity of it all. But poor Amanda, the one left with nothing to put on, soon f.r.e.a.k.e.d.out.  She starting hyperventilating thinking she was going to be stuck out in the lake until the cover of night and then Mom was going to kill her.   We tried to comfort her and calm her down all the while trying to stop laughing ourselves.  For some reason she did not see the tremendous humor we saw in our situation.

A man about 30 yards from us (one of about 5 other people at the lake) noticed how upset she was and asked if everything was ok and started to wade closer to us.  Amanda yelped and dove under the water while we assured him all was well.

Amanda was NOT okay at this point and was sobbing while Heather and I debated who got to go ashore and explain to The Moms what happened.  We had to decide who could keep the straightest face and look the most remorseful when we broke the news. 

Somehow I got picked to go in while Heather stayed to try and soothe my sister.   The moms reacted about how any mom would react and were somewhere stuck between anger, righteous "I told you so" and compassion for the daughter left stranded.  We had to figure out the best way to get Amanda to shore.  Luckily Heather's mom had brought her suit and handed it over so I could swim it out to her.

Amanda was so grateful and was finally calming down until she actually had to get out of the water realizing just how badly this woman's suit did not fit a 11 year old's body.  The long straps hung past her armpits and the crotch swung down at her knees.   We met her as far out as we could without soaking the towel but the sight of her having to wear this large bathing suit sent Heather and I back into fits of laughter.  Amanda was just ticked at this point, traumatized and angry.  She wanted nothing to do with us the rest of the day and just would not see the humor we saw in the whole event.

I remember we all went to a movie that night with Heather and I relating the incident to all the other family members and my sister getting all upset again.  In fact she would not talk about it for years.

I'm re-reading this and realizing how mean I was!   It was just so funny to me that I ignored how traumatized my sister was.  I want to take this opportunity to publicly apologize to my sweet little sister.  If we had to do it all over again...sorry, I probably would still laugh but not quite so raucously.

I love you Amanda! You're a good sport!

Life & Times #5

This happened when I was a teacher at the MTC.  I cannot remember which district it was or how long I was teaching, but this little snafu occurred during a vocabulary lesson.

The way vocab was taught when I was there oh-so-many years ago was that we wrote the Spanish words on the board, then while the missionaries stood, the teacher yelled each word in English or Spanish and the missionaries always repeated the word in Spanish.  We yelled I guess because it kept them focused and attentive??

For example: the word in this little scenario was "descanzo."

I yelled out "Desanzo!"

Missionaries: "Descanzo!"

I would yell it in English: "To take a break or a rest!"

Missionaries: "Descanzo!"

Me: "Rest!"

Missionaries: "Descanzo!"

Me: "Break!"

Missionaries: "Descanzo!"

Me: "Rest!"

Missionaries: "Descanzo!"

Me: "BREAST!"

Missionaries: .......*crickets chirping*

Not knowing how to react, I just silently turned myself to face the black board.

Then there was a stifled laugh.  And everyone busted up.  

I had yelled "BREAST!" to a group of little missionaries and no one just went with it.  They had to call me out with their complete silence.  I don't know who's face was more red, mine or theirs.

 One good thing: I doubt they ever forgot what "descanzo" meant.

Flying Fail. FHE Win.

Last week I finally gave in to Jonah who has been asking for a kite every time we go to Costco. 

"Mom, I have always wanted a kite my whole entire life!"

"It would be such a fun activity to do as a family activity!"

"I'll pay for part of the kite with the money in my piggy bank!"

Yes, I gave in.  I have great memories of kite flying when I was little.  We'd go to a park by our house right behind Dominic's and it being the Windy City, I don't remember ever having real problems.

Well, that night in Tualatin was not a Windy City night.  There was absolutely no wind.

Aaron made a good attempt.

He's good daddy.

Can you hear the puberty in Lucas' voice??

Jonah was SURE he could get the kite flying.

It was such a nice night out, none of us really minded the kite not flying. We decided we need to take the T-Rex kite to the coast in order to find our wind. 

We tried to top off our fun evening with frozen yogurt but then Jonah threw a maniacal tantrum because we weren't going to cross the park to play in the playground.  Oh well.  You just have to treasure the pleasant moments when you can.

My Life & Times #4: How I Became a Bird in Sacrament Meeting

It was my sophomore year at BYU.  My friends and I had moved out Helaman Halls and into Condo Row just off campus.  It was a great apartment with a pretty good ward.  We decided that to get know people better we needed to be involved, so 3 of us joined the choir. It was a good sized choir of about 40 people and it was fun to sing together.

A few months in, our choir director introduced a new song to perform.  She started out by telling us a little bit about her family. She and her brother were American Indians adopted by a white family.  And they were a large musical family.  They even traveled places to put on shows, singing and playing their instruments.  She goes on to say her family was very respectful of her and her brother's heritage and would perform a few numbers representing the American Indian culture.  Her brother had passed away when he was teenager and she wanted to do a tribute to his memory.  He apparently always sang "The Lord's Prayer" while the family did sign language in the background.  But this wasn't American sign language. This was American Indian sign language that included wide swinging arms, poking beaks, swirling bodies and extra large gestures.

Now this was pre-mission and I was easily embarrassed and easily made uncomfortable.  Apparently I wasn't the only one.  Every week our choir group dwindled by a few more members and a few more members.

My friends and I sat down to have a frank talk.  Now we did not want to be disrespectful or rude to her brother's memory or culture and we wanted to support our director, but not one of us felt comfortable doing this in sacrament meeting and in front of our young single adult ward.  Not one of us wanted to do it AT ALL.  But we felt bad because people were dropping like flies and pretty soon she wouldn't have a choir any more and nobody to support this special tribute.

So we came up with a plan. We'd quietly talk to the bishopric and tell them we didn't feel this number was appropriate for sacrament meeting.  The 2nd counselor listened to us and said he would check it out.  At our next practice he sat in the front row and we knew he would think this was not quite right for church.  Much to our chagrin, he came up to us afterward praising the number! Saying it was beautiful and just right for church.

Dang it.  The performance date was approaching and one roommate and I had missed some practices due to school so didn't know it very well, adding to our desire to run away like the rest of the cowardly choir.  Again we sat down and talked. And we decided to do the right thing and just go for it.  Who cares really!?  This meant so much to our choir director and she had no one left. We would do the right thing.

So that Sunday, out of 40 or more people in our thriving choir, only the 4 of us showed up to perform.  Me, my two roommates and the director climbed on stage (because we had church in the Varsity Movie Theater in the Wilk).  We made our one roommate stand in front because she knew it the best.  "Dubber," our good friend, sang beautifully while we danced/signed/pretended to have beaks and made eye contact with no one.

I know.  You had to have seen it in order get the full picture and to truly appreciate this story, but let me tell you, it was glorious! And I'm sure no one has given it two thoughts since that day, but it was years before my face stopped blushing while retelling that story.

My Life & Times #3

A few weeks ago I was talking with a good friend about most embarrassing moments and I realized that I have just a few quality experiences in my life.  It got me thinking.  A lot of my experiences are most likely preserved in a journal somewhere, I'm sure. But others I'm not so sure.  So I decided to record them for all to enjoy. 

So, enjoy!

They will be written in no particular order or schedule.  :)

The year was 1996.  I was at college.  And on a date.  The boy and I had known each other for 4-5 months but only recently started to go on actual dates. 

We had gone to a play in Salt Lake and were now back at my apartment.  It had been a great evening, good conversation and a fun time. It was curfew and time for the Boy to go home.  I walked him to the door and he goes in for the very first good night kiss.  All of a sudden I start to feel nauseous and light headed...and I faint.  Yes, folks.  I fainted during our first kiss.

And it wasn't a graceful "movie" fall to my side with the back of my hand on my forehead. It was a slumping to the floor, falling back, head hitting the wall, knees flying open along with my skirt kind of faint.  Not graceful nor cute. It took me a minute to figure out what had happened and then I was too shocked to even react.

The Boy helped me to couch as surprised as I was.  He got me some juice and we sat there just awkward.  And then we just busted up laughing.  I realized that with class, homework, the gym, and getting ready, I hadn't eaten since 3:00pm. And it was midnight.

I looked at the Boy and said, "You must feel very swanky, as Grandpa J would say.  Feel pretty good, Mr. Suave?"

He tried to be serious and say he was just worried about me, but he couldn't resist smiling and we laughed again.    And he said he wouldn't tell anyone but then we decided we had to share with roommates. I was completely embarrassed but it was a classic story.  It was too good not to share.

For the next few weeks, I had to live through a few knowing smiles from the Boy's roommates while he suffered through "way-to-go!" nudges.  Poor guy.

At least he'll have a good story to tell when his own son starts dating.

Random Jonah Quotes

Aaron and Jonah had gone swimming as usual. Which is funny because Jonah can't swim.  Aaron  throws him and he can paddle enough to get his tiny face above water until Aaron rescues him.  Aaron was getting ready to toss him and he yells, "Physics don't fail me now!"

Sitting in church I hear Jonah excitedly whisper, "Yes! I WON!  I am SO awesome!" I look over and he's fist-pumping with joy. I look down and he's playing Tic Tac Toe...with himself.

 

Playing on my phone with a new "pottery game" he turns to me so serious, so determined,

"I need to create something rather dashing!"

Aaron carries a screaming Jonah into the house after he accidentally gets hit in the head with a metal pole as the boys were putting up the trampoline.  When this kid gets hurt he doesn't want anyone to look at him or his wound until he's ready.  So he runs upstairs and slams his door.  I give him a few minutes to calm down and then go in.

In the most pathetic, sad wail you have ever heard, "They were right!!  I was wro-ong!!  I'm just a little boy!  I'm NO-OBODY!"

I just lay down next to him to cuddle on his bed. He is so sad and so devastated.  Whaa?  Nobody??  I couldn't track where his thoughts had gone and why they had landed here.

"I'm nobody!  I should just go to another family!"

What is going through his brain and how in the world can this boy think he is nobody? We talk a few minutes about how he's my favorite 5 year old in the universe, how there wouldn't be a Team Williams without him, etc.  Not quite sure what is needed.

And then it was like something in his brain switched on and his countenance completely changed. He smiles and jumps up.
"I'm not down!  I'm ready to take them on! (Fist-pumping) Jonah is back in the game, baby!" 

Off he runs back outside ready to take on the world just like his old, confident  self.

We have a strange kid.