Once upon a time, there was a sad little table. At first glance, she looked happy enough. But closer inspection showed a broken leg, battle scars, and a shattered leaf mechanism (that contraption that lets the table grow and shrink on the underside of a table).
It’s not that something dreadful had happened. Just life: Early morning breakfasts, quick lunches, innumerable snacks, leisurely suppers, puzzles, years of homework, mountains of science projects, experiments, perhaps even a few thrown sharp objects… If this little table could talk, we’d hear secrets of love notes and late night condolences, good news and heartbreak. Because a kitchen table is the heart of a home. And this heart needed to be mended.
It would be a large exaggeration to suggest that either my hubby or I knew anything about extension mechanisms when we naively removed the raw lumber hastily bolted in place to keep the table together. He refashioned where he could. And we both spent many hours scratching our heads as to how to piece the puzzle back together. Yes, many hours. And it was hot in the workshop. And the barn cats kept trying to “help”.
Yes, I bailed. I couldn’t take the heat, and was ready to abandon the project. But my sweet hubby isn’t one to give up. He and one of the teenagers finally refashioned several elements of the dove-tailed mechanism, applied plenty of carpenter’s wax, and kicked the cats a few times. And she WORKS!
I’d planned a fun geometric design to spunk up that sad little table. But engineering the pattern to work as both an oval in full extension and a circle in collapsed mode was a challenge.
Painting and distressing the repaired legs and undercarriage was a snap.
And I sealed the surfaces with plenty of coats of matte poly.
Our sad little table has her spunk back, and she’s ready to be the heart of a new home. $130