Building Furniture

I have finished the top of my table. I still have some touch-up work and some shellacking to do. But essentially I'm now able to cart it around in the back of my car and make my friends look at it. I pull up in the parking lot of Target (did you realize that the symbol on the Target sign is an actual "target"?) or Starbucks and whip my table right out and say, *hey, look at this table I made.*

(If you click on the picture you should be able to read the quote)

Did I mention how much I love making furniture? Did I also mention that I realize not only will no one pay me to make furniture, but it does not come with health insurance benefits either? Maybe mental health insurance. The large circles were made with the bottom of a Coke can and the small circles were made with one of those plastic medicine cups for kids Motrin. When I'm painting or sanding or screwing the legs on, I just talk to myself like nobody's business. I get so flipping happy making furniture. It's never perfect. Thank god I'm not a perfectionist. The one thing I demand of myself is no drips. NO DRIPS. I'm very vigilant about that. But there are flaws...a teeny fleck of black on a green part, the top slightly skewed on the legs. I could never create something perfectly because it's just not possible for me. I'm absolutely someone who can never really wear white. Ten minutes in a white shirt, BAM, there is something marring up the whiteness. Fifteen minutes in white pants and I will have already sat on bubblegum. I'm just not programmed to do things meticulously.

I did not use the dremel on this table like I had planned. Actually, my initial vision was not at all the end result. That's another thing I like about it; in a weird way it's like writing a poem. I start with an idea, and then begin. The poem/table/chair takes off from there and kind of builds itself. I'm always surprised by what I have at the end.