Ten: Completion.

Finished and in use.

The table is in its second home now, taking the scars and character with it, older and more mature. It's brighter now, with more soul shining through. I would like to think it's happier. I know I am.

Nine: Bringing Out the Best.

Beginning the staining process. I want the natural wood grain to steal the show, so I chose a very light stain and finished with a solid protective coat.

The protective coat gave the top a little shine, which I like.

Eight: Reconstruction.

In order to reassemble the table, I need to build it in a different way. I don't want to put nails top down through the boards, so instead I'm adding a few bits of wood to form a frame. Then, I can screw up into the boards, keeping the screws hidden and providing a more secure attachment. Elegant and functional.

To keep with the spirit of the table, I didn't want to use brand new wood. Instead, I went to the Rebuilding Center in Portland and found some older, salvaged wood to add for the frame.

I love the natural wood grain. It's hard to imagine painting over this.

Seven: Success with Hippos.

I recently had some success finding the most difficult piece of hardware to replace at a great local Portland store, Hippo Hardware.

This completes the hardware replacement and moves me into the final stage of restoration. With the final stain and protective coating ready to go, all that remains is a little sanding before application.

Six: Pics.

Bringing out the bare.

Smoothing.

Skeleton.

Five: Planning.

Part 1.

"Live life, like each day is your last day"

I've heard this quite a bit. It sounds nice - the idea that we are but mortals and death is unavoidable and sometimes unexpected, so embrace every day you have, as if it was your last day to live. This motto may lead to a warm, fuzzy feeling (i.e. Joy) due to the presumed lack of responsibility and ensuing freedom to indulge various vices, but in reality its entirely impractical. If you live every day as if its your last, you never get anything done. It would be completely unproductive. And after a while, I think, it would be unfulfilling. Humoring every indulgence is enjoyable for a short time, but as most millionaires and lottery winners can attest to, this style of life leaves you feeling hollow and empty. There is a haunting lack of purpose and meaning in a life lived solely for personal pleasure.

Of course, living every day as your last doesn't necessarily mean "buying want you want" or "doing what you want". I think you can live with purpose and spirit in this mindset. Those with even rudimentary wisdom understand that it is much more fulfilling to give, than it is to receive; and greater satisfaction is achieved by living with less and acquiring less, while experiencing more; and spending quality time on relationships is far more valuable than what any amount of money can buy. However, if I knew that this was my last day to live, I probably wouldn't go to work. Or bother with paying my bills for the month. Or buying food for next week. Clearly there must be a balance between forfeiting all responsibilities while still enjoying life in its impermanence.

The question is: How far ahead do you plan? Two days? Two weeks? Two years? And what of the value of long-term projects? Projects that I've invested lots of effort into are often the most rewarding. The reward of completion is much more sweet after years of investment, compared the short-lived high from a two-day project. These are valuable experiences and help to shape a person. If I only plan ahead for two weeks, there is limit to what I can accomplish.  Living only for the day, and only experiencing short-term rewards seems akin to immaturity. Immediate pleasure response is the motis operandi of children. Delayed gratification is a learned skill, and a necessity for adults in our culture. So we find ourselves at the crux, in a space between planning and working for the future (sometimes years or decades), and a future that is never certain and may disappear in an instant.

Four: Time.