Sometimes I do hard things

Three and a half years ago, Annie said, "Let's build Mom a deck," and I thought she was nuts.  I hadn't built anything since that heart shaped CD rack in ninth grade shop.  She wasn't a builder either.  "How hard can it be?"  It was hard.  Ripping out the old boards, we sounded a bit like Xena.  Then we accidentally took out a support for the still healthy upper deck.  Using the circular saw was terrifying.  I cried.  And lost 10 pounds.  And then there was a deck.

A couple of months later, I bumped into Ana White's incredible blog full of free plans for great furniture, and decided to try.  I bought my own tools.  I got laughed out of a lumberyard.  And I built this and this and two of these.

A year and a half ago, we moved into our new home with a square dining room and I thought it was too bad I could never build a round table because that was just what was needed.  I had always wanted a round table.  And then I saw this picture.  And I got myself in way over my head.  The table saw was scary.  High school trig did not come back easily. Several boards clamped together side by side tented in the middle.  Perfectly smooth end grain became rough when stained.  The quart of white wash that the cat spilled was more white than wash.  And then there was a round table.