Here's a story I'm working on
Mar. 31st, 2003 02:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kay_gmdPlease feel free to tell me what you think, but be useful in your comments. (i.e. If you think it sucks monkey feces feel free to say so, but tell me why, the same goes if you think it's great)
Thanks
Table Round
"Ma, why do we have to do all this work? I could just buy a new table with my allowance money. Mommy'll probably pay for Space Camp anyway."
We'd just started our second day of sanding, and her mark still showed. I had to admit it would have been a lot easier. Heck just doing it myself would have been a lot easier. Kay was more like her Mommy not into handy work like me. Although Felicity could be right handy when she got down to it. This way though Kay would remember.
I still remember the first time I refinished our table. Back when it was my table, and I was twice Kay's age. Mom hadn't had time or energy enough to teach us lessons this way. I couldn't have just bought another one, and I didn't want to.
Lana and I had just broken up, and I was vacillating between being totally okay and deeply distraught. It was a tumultuous time. I'd rented a room in a large house, and was happy to discover that I had enough room to move the table in with me, and off the porch.
Of course my table's history started long before that. Mom had picked it up from a thrift store when the four of us moved out of dad's house. Really it was our house, dad was almost never there, but we moved out and then it was his.
As I moved the table into my new home, much to the confusion of pup Dee, I'd wanted to name him Dolphus, but Lana balked at that so we went with Dee, I looked at it. It needed a new beginning as much as I did. I'd discovered while painting my shelves, that I enjoyed do-it-yourself type projects, especially if I could do them a little bit at a time, and this seemed like it might be just the thing.
While I wore my scars on the inside, most days, the table showed its to the world. Admittedly its world was me and Dee, but I still would have tried to cover them up. Three shades darker than its original blond oak its face was further pitted with gouges of neglect and anger, missing varnish and rust all down its legs. It would be a long job.
Still the table was full of memories: family baking, board games, silly recorded conversations, evening help with homework, holiday feasts, and unity that may have been forged by desperation, but was still near and dear to my heart. The scars marred this memory remembering angry words, frustrated carelessness, and times when we had to little at the end of the month.
I had stolen time to work on it. A few minutes if I got up early, a half hour after work, more on the weekends. Maybe I loved the work because it came in bits, maybe two hours was too much to expect of Kay. I'd periodically throw the ball for Dee, but managed to make visible progress. The hardest part was the re-finishing. My housmates had been pressuring me to get it back into my room, and they were losing patience. I was tempted to take a day off to do it. I could have without fuss, but it would have meant losing a day's pay. I had to wait until I had a free weekend, got my supplies and set to it. It was almost summer, and the days were long. I started as soon as it was light out. I must have put eight coat on the table, waiting impatiently for it to dry after each. I wanted to be sure that this beautiful table I'd put so much work into would be well protected.
Kay's carving had not been the first ding to get through this finish, but it had been done intentionally, and I wanted her to know the effect of her actions. She was getting to the age when I couldn't keep her from making her own decisions on things that could hurt her. It scared me seeing her grow. She needed to know that even little actions might have big consequences. Maybe she'd make fewer mistakes than I had.
"Dumb table isn't big enough for the four of us anyway." Kat was muttering as she continued to sand, we'd spent most of yesterday stripping the finish, and would probably have to work two or three more days before we were ready to put new finish on, more if she didn't start putting some elbow grease into it, did she think the wood just wanted to see the sand? Relax.
"You're right," Kay started at my indication that I'd heard her, as though I were still half deaf.. "We'll need to get a new table before Mark learns to eat on his own, but we'll keep this one. It has a long history with me, and as long as I'm around it has a hame with me. When we're done you can help me decide what we'll do with it, but for now I'll tell you about it. It'll make the work go faster..."
"Sarah," Felicity called as she got out of her car, "don't you think Kay might be done for the day? You two've been working since three." I looked at my watch, it was almost six.
"S'kay mommy, it's still light out, and I don't have much homework. C'n you call us a little before dinner time? Ma, what did you say Uncle Sid did?"
Thanks
Table Round
"Ma, why do we have to do all this work? I could just buy a new table with my allowance money. Mommy'll probably pay for Space Camp anyway."
We'd just started our second day of sanding, and her mark still showed. I had to admit it would have been a lot easier. Heck just doing it myself would have been a lot easier. Kay was more like her Mommy not into handy work like me. Although Felicity could be right handy when she got down to it. This way though Kay would remember.
I still remember the first time I refinished our table. Back when it was my table, and I was twice Kay's age. Mom hadn't had time or energy enough to teach us lessons this way. I couldn't have just bought another one, and I didn't want to.
Lana and I had just broken up, and I was vacillating between being totally okay and deeply distraught. It was a tumultuous time. I'd rented a room in a large house, and was happy to discover that I had enough room to move the table in with me, and off the porch.
Of course my table's history started long before that. Mom had picked it up from a thrift store when the four of us moved out of dad's house. Really it was our house, dad was almost never there, but we moved out and then it was his.
As I moved the table into my new home, much to the confusion of pup Dee, I'd wanted to name him Dolphus, but Lana balked at that so we went with Dee, I looked at it. It needed a new beginning as much as I did. I'd discovered while painting my shelves, that I enjoyed do-it-yourself type projects, especially if I could do them a little bit at a time, and this seemed like it might be just the thing.
While I wore my scars on the inside, most days, the table showed its to the world. Admittedly its world was me and Dee, but I still would have tried to cover them up. Three shades darker than its original blond oak its face was further pitted with gouges of neglect and anger, missing varnish and rust all down its legs. It would be a long job.
Still the table was full of memories: family baking, board games, silly recorded conversations, evening help with homework, holiday feasts, and unity that may have been forged by desperation, but was still near and dear to my heart. The scars marred this memory remembering angry words, frustrated carelessness, and times when we had to little at the end of the month.
I had stolen time to work on it. A few minutes if I got up early, a half hour after work, more on the weekends. Maybe I loved the work because it came in bits, maybe two hours was too much to expect of Kay. I'd periodically throw the ball for Dee, but managed to make visible progress. The hardest part was the re-finishing. My housmates had been pressuring me to get it back into my room, and they were losing patience. I was tempted to take a day off to do it. I could have without fuss, but it would have meant losing a day's pay. I had to wait until I had a free weekend, got my supplies and set to it. It was almost summer, and the days were long. I started as soon as it was light out. I must have put eight coat on the table, waiting impatiently for it to dry after each. I wanted to be sure that this beautiful table I'd put so much work into would be well protected.
Kay's carving had not been the first ding to get through this finish, but it had been done intentionally, and I wanted her to know the effect of her actions. She was getting to the age when I couldn't keep her from making her own decisions on things that could hurt her. It scared me seeing her grow. She needed to know that even little actions might have big consequences. Maybe she'd make fewer mistakes than I had.
"Dumb table isn't big enough for the four of us anyway." Kat was muttering as she continued to sand, we'd spent most of yesterday stripping the finish, and would probably have to work two or three more days before we were ready to put new finish on, more if she didn't start putting some elbow grease into it, did she think the wood just wanted to see the sand? Relax.
"You're right," Kay started at my indication that I'd heard her, as though I were still half deaf.. "We'll need to get a new table before Mark learns to eat on his own, but we'll keep this one. It has a long history with me, and as long as I'm around it has a hame with me. When we're done you can help me decide what we'll do with it, but for now I'll tell you about it. It'll make the work go faster..."
"Sarah," Felicity called as she got out of her car, "don't you think Kay might be done for the day? You two've been working since three." I looked at my watch, it was almost six.
"S'kay mommy, it's still light out, and I don't have much homework. C'n you call us a little before dinner time? Ma, what did you say Uncle Sid did?"
