Peg Kerr's Journal

When I had moved out in my twenties, I needed a kitchen table. My Mom and Dad brought one to me at my apartment. I still remember them carrying it across that long parking lot on a hot summer's day. I'm not quite sure where they got it. Used, maybe, or perhaps from a relative. It was painted an ugly shade of thick brown paint.(Edited to add: Rob remembers that there was a thick coat of dark green OVER the dark brown.)

I spent weeks stripping and sanding that table down to the bare wood, working in the outdoor patio behind Rob's apartment (this was before we were married). It took so long because I had to dig into the crevices in the legs with the edge of a nail file to chase every last bit of brown paint out in the detailing of the lathe-turned grooves. You can still see tiny bits of the paint, like shadows, proof that I was not an expert used furniture refinisher by any means. I don't remember what the wood was, but I stained it a red maple color and covered it with a protective gloss. I remember how vexed I was by a stray hair that floated in on a breeze and caught in the gloss and affixed itself there, like an insect caught in amber.

We moved it to our first apartment together, and it became our first table. When we moved again, to our house where the girls were born, the table was put in the dining room. Rather too humble, aesthetically, for the space, but it fit perfectly, and when we covered it with a cloth, and put the best dishes on it, it suited us well. Two leaves could be pulled out from the ends to add length whenever we had guests.

Over the years, of course, there were scars. Delia the toddler banged her spoon incessantly, and so there is a patina of half-moon shaped scars on her side of the table. (We always sat at the same places.) Once, someone put a candlestick on the table, and some liquid spilled and soaked the felt cushion underneath, leaving a stain which marked the varnish. There is the smear of nail polish where Delia was experimenting, and I couldn't rub it off. I didn't want to try anything stronger that would take off the finish. I'll admit I wasn't always scrupulously quick about wiping away everyday stains.

It's used, battered, and hardly an heirloom. But we loved that table. We grew our family around it, and told our jokes, and traded our bon mots and cracked each other up. We had raging arguments, often about whether onions must be eaten or not. Fiona banged the back of her head against the back of her chair 1,346,234 times and never never remembered not to do it the next night. We ate our Christmas breakfasts and celebrated twelfth night there. We brought various hopeful Boys to join us. Fiona perfected her pterodactyl mating call there. We held hands around it and blessed our meals, and cried and screamed and raged and loved each other there.

We didn't have a hearth, so we used a table instead.

My mom is moving from the apartment she shared with Dad to a smaller senior complex. She had to downsize, and so she offered us her dining room table, the one I grew up with. It, too, has a rich family history, and many happy memories. It is bigger than ours: we will have to take leaves out and put the ends down, and we can't sit in the same configuration, because you can't put your feet under the drop leaf ends.

But. It, too, is the family table with a lot of lovely memories, and I hated to see it go to some strangers. Yes, we will take it, I said, and when the girls leave home, Rob and I can take all the leaves out, drop the sides, and it will work as a long narrow table for just the two of us. And then one of the girls can take our table when they leave to set up their own household.

Mom is going to be using the old oak table she had in her kitchen, the one she received from her mother-in-law (yet another generation's worth of memories).

So I have taken the legs off our table...



We will have to do our Valentine boxes breakfast Japanese-style, on the floor, tomorrow morning,



and then hustle it into the basement, so the dining room is clear when the truck brings Mom's old dining room table to our house.

And our old table will wait, patiently, in the basement, until either Fiona or Delia move out, painstakingly reassemble it, and gather friends and a new family around it to make a new generation of memories.

Chemo is hard. December is hard.

This sight warmed my heart when I got back from work earlier this week.

Delia's going to be applying to about six colleges or so, and she's heard from the first one: she's been accepted to Wartburg College in Iowa.

I think she's not quite picturing herself going there, but it's a relief and a joy to have that first acceptance. Much, of course, will depend on the financial aid packages offered by the various colleges, too.

New CaringBridge post. Bottom line: we're past the first chemo, side effects have been mild, so far, so good.

Caregivers are busy. I've put seventy-five miles on the car over the past two days, just running errands around town. One errand was to take Delia to the doctor's. She came back from camp a week ago with some kind of bug which blossomed into full-scale post-camp crud. The doctor tested her for strep, which was negative, but put her on antibiotics anyway, due to the importance of not taxing Rob's weakened immunity. She also advised that Delia use the neti pot (which Delia HATES. She used it once, and admitted it made her feel better, but has since avoided using it again).

I got my hair cut. My hairstylist reported that the bald spot at the nape of my neck is even bigger, and now I have another area where the hair is thinning on the side of my head. Argh. "You've got to cut it out with the stress," she told me.

Wish I knew how.

I keep checking Fiona's blog hoping for another post (mothers of students studying abroad are voracious for news) but at least I did hear from her via GoogleChat yesterday. She reported that she is in a flat with a kitchen, a bath, and five single rooms. She had been there a day and had not yet met any of her roommates, although she has heard some sounds at night. And that the only shampoo in the bathroom is a man's shampoo.

Hmm.

She says she finds this hilarious. I asked whether she might consider asking the housing office whether a mistake has been made. She said that apparently students in the UK are much more cool with co-ed housing situations. I said I wouldn't hyper out about this if she feels safe.

Still. I found this somewhat surprising.

We have a Skype date tomorrow, and by then, I hope she'll know more about the housing situation.

Delia has mononucleosis. AGAIN.

Second time in thirteen months. SEND THAT GIRL SOME LOVE.

Forgot to post these: a couple of family pictures from after the matinee performance on Sunday.

Going out for cupcakes after A Midsummer Night's Dream with our adorable girls.

For those locally who are interested:

Delia is going to be appearing her school's production of Midsummer Night's Dream. She is playing Helena. The performances are next Friday and Saturday at 7:00 p.m. and Sunday at 2:00 p.m. Anyone interested? Send me a private message on my livejournal or dreamwidth accounts, and I'll give you the details.

Delia (ooh_pretty_mine has a request here:

Hello all!

I am helping out with Minicon this year, I'm a department head for Minicon the Next Generation, which is in charge of getting more teens to come to Minicon and making it an awesome place for them. I'm looking for some wonderful volunteers who could help with giving demos or lessons or whatever it may be to teens at Minicon this year.

Some examples are:

If you take great photos, show us how to do that!
If you create anything geeky or goofy, teach us!
If you illustrate comic books, give a demo!
If you have ways to come up with codes and riddles, pass on the secrets!
If you write songs or poetry, tell us how you do it!
If you have a secret talent, be proud and share it!

Whatever it may be, if you think that teens or young adults would like it, PLEASE CONTACT ME ASAP.

You can comment on this post or message me through LJ.


Thanks so much guys and I'll see you at the Pool Party!!

( which is Saturday, Feb 23rd @ the Radish Tree if you forgot :] )

Two items of wunderbar news came down this week: first of all, Delia has landed HER DREAM JOB. Why yes, she is going to be working part time at Michaels, the craft store. She's only wanted to work there since she was eight.

Secondly! A part in a play! And not just any play, but a really major role: she is going to be playing Helena in A Midsummer Night's Dream. She received news that she had the part and she wavered a bit, wondering if she could handle it, along with classes and the job. But she's decided to go for it. We're just thrilled for her.

Kudos to Miss Delia from her proud parents.