Has the tide turned? I'll eat to that!

So, it's possible, maybe. That summer may not be out of control just yet. The kids have hit their stride in a nice, easy schedule. They've been punished strictly for the last couple of days, so maybe I've laid some nice groundwork about fighting, kicking, hitting, mangling, and otherwise harassing one another and me. I'm giving them lots of fun time on the TV, Wii, and playing together.

Everything's coming up Julie.

IN FACT, yesterday, M came with us to look at a kitchen table...and we found one. It's not the dream kitchen table, but that seemed unobtainable.

See, I found the dream table in a catalog:

http://www.crateandbarrel.com/family.aspx?c=14228&f=28562

It's gorgeous. I LOVE it. I called Crate and Barrel to see about delivery and to ask a couple of questions.

The woman who answered the phone was wonderful, and I am eternally grateful for her candor. She said that she had the coordinating credenza and loved it, and thought it was so natural, so zen, so clean looking.

I'm thinking, "yup. Zen and clean, that's what I'm going for!"

She goes on about natural oils, sustainable teak, blah blah....and then, then she says something that makes my ears perk up: "Did you read about the cleaning and caring for this table?"

Wait. Hold it right there. There's a cleaning and caring section? For a table?

There's an audible hiss, the sound of my heart's fantasy deflating.

I explain that I had not, in fact, seen that section, and in fact, have 2 kids. Then, dreading the answer--"is this going to be at odds with my love for zen and clean lines?"

"Ohhh. With two kids, I would reconsider buying this table."

The saleslady is talking me out of a sale? This has gotta be bad.

Just like in the cartoons, the little cloud of my dream with the zen table goes poof.

"Hmmm? Why?"

"Well, because this is a natural, unsealed wood, it is going to absorb oil. So, for example, if you set a pizza box down on the table, and it has a greasy bottom, then the table's going to soak that up. To clean it, you will have to sprinkle talc or baking soda on the grease, let it stay overnight, and then give it a light sand the next day."

"A light sand?"

"Yes, a fine grit sandpaper will remove the outermost layer of the grease stain."

"..from a pizza box."

"Well, anything with oil really. Salad dressing, cheese, anything fried."

"So, what you're telling me, is if by chance, a chicken nugget, or a french fry were to accidentally fall off a plate and alight upon the table or the bench, a grease stain will form and be impossible to remove without an overnight cleaning process that involves a trip to Lowe's?"
"Yes. See? It's not really a table for families."

"So, let me see. By the end of the second week of ownership, I will have four chairs sitting around a heap of sawdust and sanding residue. My table will be sanded away. And yet, the catalog suggests years of use?"

"Not really for families."

No. Not really. Or for people with thumbs. Or people with homework, crafts, school projects. Or for people who eat food, except for raw vegetables and salads without dips or dressings. Or people with skin, whose natural oils MAY leave fingerprints on the table.

"In fact, the credenza that I use in my home office is deeply worn and stained where my hands touch it every day. I like the worn look, but that may not be what you're going for."

What the hell happened to zen and clean? Now we're looking at worn and stained?!

Needless to say, the zen kitchen table porn turned out much like all porn when viewed in high-def: kinda blemished, overly made-up, and disappointing. So, after the remarkably candid conversation with the Crate and Barrel woman a few weeks ago, I gave up.

Until two days ago at the fountains on the other side of the bay. I went with friend MT to look for a desk chair for her new home office area. We walked in, and lo, there was a table: half the price of the catalog porn. Capable of handling greasy fingers. Not quite the heavenly vision, draped in halos and golden robes, but feasible. Possible. Real.

Yesterday, I took M back to survey the table. Price? Better. Not screaming at the kids when they spill? Much better. I got him signed on.

The biggest problem was, of course, that said table could not possibly fit in my car. I abandoned M and E at the store, and ran over to Lowe's (again with the hardware!) and bought webbing tie-downs. Came back over, and Brian, the style consultant and Wade, his sidekick, ratcheted that sucker down on top of my car.

Of course, everyone dreaded the trip back over the bay with a 200 pound table strapped to the car, but we made it without incident. (Great job Brian and Wade!) Legs secured, painters (here to repair the damage from the flood) helped to carry it in, and voila:

Low-def kitchen table porn. Suitable for life. Families. Grilled cheese.