Flowers in the foreground. Fruits, veggies and cookbooks in the background--my kind of landscape.
My my, Sam, where can one find such a gorgeous view?
I'm so glad you asked.
FROM OUR NEW DINING ROOM TABLE!!
I'm sure most of you over the age of 20 and not living in a dorm have a dining room table, so this may be a very LAME update for ya'll. But for those of us--not naming names--that may have been living the last 7+ years without one, this is a game-changer.
When I lived in Chicago, alone, in a studio apartment, a formal dining table was not exactly a priority. Friends coming over for dinner? Ummm, how about we go out. When I moved to Los Angeles, and mostly worked from home, a dining table was again not a priority because we needed the space for my office. Meals were taken on the couch or the floor--keepin' it classy. One of my favorite Thanksgiving dinners was had on that floor. Who needs tables when you can have leg cramps and the danger of putting your heel in the gravy boat?
Then we moved into our bright, lovely, ocean-breeze-filled apartment and had to rethink some things. We have more room, no need for a home office and a gaping space right off the kitchen. What to do . . . what to do? Being the budget-conscious duo we are, off to Craigslist we went to find the finest in second-hand furniture.
I found a few tables that were . . . fine, but not what I wanted. The nifty twist was, I didn't really know what I wanted, and D.R.--of the As Long As I Can See the Broncos Playing school of thought--would've been happy with anything that stood upright. It was a process of elimination: Nope, don't want that. Nope, we don't need a table that seats 12. Nope, Sonny Crockett called and he wants that smokey black glass table back. Nope, I don't want a round table. It's hard being picky while also lacking a goal.
I was walking through a furniture store to get some inspiration when I saw a dark wood, counter-height table. Ya know, the kind they have in pubs and bars? Winner!
Back to Craigslist . . .
A lovely woman, who is about two weeks away from giving birth to her second child, was selling one for a steal. We hauled it away and promised to give it a good home.
We christened it with cookbooks, lunch and grocery lists.
By the way, I'm eating a California hotdog for lunch in this picture. Get yourself some turkey dogs, nestle them into some whole wheat buns, slather them in Green Goddess dressing, and top with sprouts, carrots, cucumbers and Frank's hot sauce. Hello deliciousness!
Growing up, my family was pretty strict about only eating in the kitchen/dining room, but I prefer the freedom to nibble and nosh in every room in the house. Nachos on the balcony; dinner on the couch while I decide if I want to continue watching The Newsroom or not; donuts in bed; Coffee and bites of toast in the morning while I curl my hair in the bathroom; standing at the kitchen sink eating PB&J in a rolled tortilla with a glass of milk; wine at the desk while I watch yet another chunk of money fly out of my bank account for student loans. See, all rooms in our home must be conducive to eating. The irony does not escape me that the dining room was the last to join the party.
Wanna come over for dinner?
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