Recently, my table has been reunited with his long-lost sister. Separated at birth, the two none-the-less grew up in similar homes, incurred similar scars and hoisted up to hungry mouths similar meals. That is until the brother entered my dining room. Ever since then, the tables have been on widely disparate paths. Said sister’s path was sadly lined with mostly Chef Boyardee and Lean Cuisine, yielding her a deathly pallor and deep-set wrinkles (her only saving grace was the taco parties she hosted b.c. -that is, before previous owner had children). Amazingly, only days after I was convinced by brother to post on twintablesadoptedintodifferenthomes.com, our ad was answered by the sister’s dining room proprietors.
The visit was magical with lots of wood-caressing, a look at the underbelly, and some stress tests on the legs. And while she’d need to be given sustenance in smaller doses until she’d be ready to hoist the feast we have in store for her top, we knew she’d be up to the tasty challenge at hand.
Alas, while retrieving the truck that would allow for her transfer into our dining room and back into the life of her brother, she was assaulted by her well-meaning, but inept prior owners. She was presumably dropped on her side and suffered massive damage to her underbelly. Never one to abandon someone in need, we agreed to take her and they waived her price. In preparation for our arrival, they threw one half into their flower bed and one half onto their sidewalk. Her top was halfway scratched away and even with a good refinishing, she will never recapture all the beauty of her youth lost in the fall.
No matter, after some Sunday night surgery, she is fit as a fiddle and patiently awaiting a good refinishing. Scars or not, she eagerly awaits the opportunity to hoist up a bounty of deliciousness on May 8th.