On the current desktop.
I have a huge industrial drafting table with the wide metal base. You can imagine some draftsman (and sorry but yes, it was almost exclusively men back then) from the 1950's hunched over the maple tabletop sticking his pins into the wood to center the paper, in an office with dozens of desks...all the same.
You can still see letters and numbers imprinted into the wood. Printed so skillfully that they look as uniform as if they were hammered with a steel stamp. The table is adjustable height and tilt wise. It has been cherished by me for at least 20 years now. My sons and first husband surprised me one birthday and bought it and had it all set up for me in the basement of our first house. So mostly it is the memory of them caring so much and making it all so nice for me. And it was a surprise. The boys were little then and I'm sure that keeping it a secret was very hard for them to do. But they kept it quiet and I was moved to tears.
So now the drawing table is dismantled and stuck in the back of the tiny one car garage that is serving as our storage unit. I have been thinking about selling it. I'm sure it is worth some money. And some artsy type would be a very proud owner and excited to set it up in their space.
I am finding that I don't really need the big table to make things. And space here is limited. The memories I have relating to the desk are the important thing. As long as I have the memories safe in my head (and maybe in one of my diaries) I think I will be able to find the drafting table a new home.
You can still see letters and numbers imprinted into the wood. Printed so skillfully that they look as uniform as if they were hammered with a steel stamp. The table is adjustable height and tilt wise. It has been cherished by me for at least 20 years now. My sons and first husband surprised me one birthday and bought it and had it all set up for me in the basement of our first house. So mostly it is the memory of them caring so much and making it all so nice for me. And it was a surprise. The boys were little then and I'm sure that keeping it a secret was very hard for them to do. But they kept it quiet and I was moved to tears.
So now the drawing table is dismantled and stuck in the back of the tiny one car garage that is serving as our storage unit. I have been thinking about selling it. I'm sure it is worth some money. And some artsy type would be a very proud owner and excited to set it up in their space.
I am finding that I don't really need the big table to make things. And space here is limited. The memories I have relating to the desk are the important thing. As long as I have the memories safe in my head (and maybe in one of my diaries) I think I will be able to find the drafting table a new home.
In progress
...I started this a long time ago and can't even remember why I wrote those words on there. But I will paint some more on it. Until I think it is finished.
...I started this a long time ago and can't even remember why I wrote those words on there. But I will paint some more on it. Until I think it is finished.
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