Update: More photos available...AND, we broke in the picnic table tonight!!
Er...ah...that sounded bad. What I mean is, we had our first picnic on the table!! (Phew! Glad we straightened that one out...)
Hand crafted for me by my strong, handsome, incredibly wonderful husband.
I can't believe I once thought that I DIDN'T want a homemade picnic table. For some reason in my brain, I did not equate "handmade" with "superb" and I mistakenly thought that a store bought picnic table would be more superior.
I must've forgotten who(m?) I was married to for a second.
This picnic table is divine. You know, if wood and screws can be divine. Large, sturdy, heavy, indestructible.
Just look at the super wide top! No picnic table at WalMart has gotta top like this!
My life is now complete. I have my picnic table...I can die a happy woman.
But, I can't die before I finish this:
My kids would never forgive me.
Once upon a time (like, two days ago) we had an old, wooden futon frame sitting in our "dirt garage" (read: a tuck under garage on the back of our house that is for "lawn stuff" and has a dirt floor. Hence "dirt garage". Don't forget it. I'm only telling you once.), just doin' nothin'.
It struck me (you know, figuratively...not literally. Futons don't strike. They're much nicer than that...) that it would make a fantastic picnic table for our small children (and, if they had their very own picnic table, it would prevent them from overtaking my new beaut.).
So, I disassembled it (sorry, no before photos) and am now reconstructing it, with some occasional help from my husband, ("Do you wanna know what I would do?" he asks. "Sure." I say. "I would *insert male idea here*." says he. "Hmmmm. Fab idea my love...but, nope. I want to do it like this." says I as I go about my business, using his big muscles as I need them.)
Soon, I will have a photo of my completed project for my kiddos (I'm getting to the point, tho, that I will probably have to start listening to my man...as I'm thinking there may be some angles that will need to be cut, and while I'm a whiz with a drill, I'm slightly terrified of electric powered tools with the capability of severing one of my appendages. I'll leave the dangerous work to my love.)...but until then...
Just wish me luck!
Oh...and could you folks in the South please take your humidity back? It's wreaking havoc on my hair. And skin. And armpits.
Thanks a bunch! :D