EVENTS

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This is a story about a table. And a family. A family who needed a table. A busy family living in a fast-paced society where time at the dinner table appears lower and lower on the list of priorities. The distractions of modern technology, the necessity of both parents working a 40 hour work week to sustain a life of safety, security, and comfort- makes time around dinner even more difficult to maintain. As the kids grew and time around the dinner table became even more scarce, the lines of communication were drowned out by these distractions. As time continued, problems began to arise that seemed to be a direct result of not having the time and space to talk to one another, blaming it on the busy-ness of life. 

The parents of this family wanted to make dinnertime more of a priority decided to build a table that would fit the space and size of their family, making it more comfortable. They found the tools they needed on Craigslist, thrift stores, and pawn shops. They spent hours learning woodworking tips and techniques online through various how-to videos, blogs, and social media. They built the table big enough to invite more more people to sit around. They built a table so big, they couldn't fit it through the doorways of their home.

 

So they built their table in the dining room. 

They built their table to make gathering for dinnertime more meaningful. They invited friends to eat around their table and those friends decided they wanted their own table. Those friends told other friends that told the parents they should build these tables to sell. The parents weren't trained, weren't woodworkers, what a silly thing to say. They work at a bank. And the bank pays the bills that guarantee the safety, security, and well-being of the family. Besides, where is the time to do something like that?

Even though, every day felt like such a struggle because each of them they dreaded the time they spent working at a job- spending the majority of their waking time, doing things they didn't like to be doing.

 

But the parents had already bought all the tools and they DID have a small garage, just big enough to build one table at a time. They both found themselves looking forward to working there, after work or on the weekends. Little projects, using all the free wood they could find. 

 

Although their jobs were paying the bills, it was not a sustainable way to live. Both parents had college degrees in art and design for a reason, not in finance or accounting for another. When a person spends the majority of their life doing something they do not want to be doing, spending little to no time chasing after their dreams, in order to enjoy only a small percentage of their life, it is only a matter of time before the scales tip and fall over. 

 

And they did. 

'If we are going to make this work. You are going to have to build the tables'

The dad said to the step-mom.

He put an ad on Craigslist and continued to spend his 40 hours in order to maintain themselves on a sort of life-support, while she started to build tables. 

 

She taught herself how to use and not be afraid of machines only boys were taught how to use. Learning to measure 3 times and again. The amount of patience required to sand rough wood into a finished piece of furniture. The frustration of the days that seemed to be 3 steps forward and 2 steps back. Developing the stamina and strength required for long days of lifting, sanding, building, bending, stretching in ways a banker would never need to do.

 

 

 In addition to building the tables, she used her training from countless college art classes to be able to draw table designs as blueprints. She also used her college training in typography, graphic design and photoshop to develop a logo.  Applying her love of taking photos into product photography. 

 

She took dozens of trips to the lumber yard loading wood into the back of their Mazda 3 Hatchback, paid for by last penny of their checking account with the gas tank running on fumes. 

The late nights the dad spent after a full day of a full week of work. Pushing back the voices telling them at 2am that it was never going to work. You have no idea what you are doing. Aren't you afraid you might lose your house? Who is going to buy from you anyway?

But then,

the emails came in. One right after another. Sometimes multiple times a day. Those emails turned into orders. The parents took those orders and turned them into tables and those tables went to real people with real families, looking for the same values in a table that was used to build it. Those families gave their real money in exchange, and the parents were able to pay their very real obligations. 

 

The orders continued and the parents continued to work. Day after day. Little by little. They paid cash for a little pick-up they named 'Woody'. When it became too difficult to work in the small space of their garage, they found a larger space to build in. The father left his job.

Even though they were both working harder than they had ever before, working full days with few days off.

Yet, it didn't feel so bad. In fact, many times it didn't feel like work at all. 

 

As time went on, they began to realize, the security of a bi-weekly paycheck and the luxuries a reliable stream of income brings  was being replaced with a sense of fulfillment every time a table is picked up, an outlet for creativity with every design, the benefits of exercise as a by-product of moving, and the ability to contribute to the local economy by taking away from the corporate world they used to be so immersed in. 

It is a on-going, terrifyingly-beautiful struggle built on hard work, love, the pursuit of real happiness and the amazing people who are willing to take a risk by buying a table that doesn't come with the same security buying from a corporate furniture store does. 

 

 

Hi. Our names are Britni and Peter and this is the continuation of the journey of our table-making adventure,

 

PNW FarmTables 

 

This is a Story About a Table.

And a family. A family who needed a table. A busy family living in a fast-paced society where time at the dinner table appears lower and lower on the list of priorities. The distractions of modern technology, the necessity of both parents working a 40 hour work week to sustain a life of safety, security, and comfort- makes time around dinner even more difficult to maintain. As the kids grew and time around the dinner table became even more scarce, the lines of communication were drowned out by these distractions. As time continued, problems began to arise that seemed to be a direct result of not having the time and space to talk to one another, blaming it on the busy-ness of life. 

The parents of this family wanted to make dinnertime more of a priority decided to build a table that would fit the space and size of their family, making it more comfortable. They found the tools they needed on Craigslist, thrift stores, and pawn shops. They spent hours learning woodworking tips and techniques online through various how-to videos, blogs, and social media. They built the table big enough to invite more more people to sit around. They built a table so big, they couldn't fit it through the doorways of their home.

 

So they built their table in the dining room. 

They built their table to make gathering for dinnertime more meaningful. They invited friends to eat around their table and those friends decided they wanted their own table. Those friends told other friends that told the parents they should build these tables to sell. The parents weren't trained, weren't woodworkers, what a silly thing to say. They work at a bank. And the bank pays the bills that guarantee the safety, security, and well-being of the family. Besides, where is the time to do something like that?

Even though, every day felt like such a struggle because each of them they dreaded the time they spent working at a job- spending the majority of their waking time, doing things they didn't like to be doing.

 

But the parents had already bought all the tools and they DID have a small garage, just big enough to build one table at a time. They both found themselves looking forward to working there, after work or on the weekends. Little projects, using all the free wood they could find. 

 

Although their jobs were paying the bills, it was not a sustainable way to live. Both parents had college degrees in art and design for a reason, not in finance or accounting for another. When a person spends the majority of their life doing something they do not want to be doing, spending little to no time chasing after their dreams, in order to enjoy only a small percentage of their life, it is only a matter of time before the scales tip and fall over. 

 

And they did. 

'If we are going to make this work. You are going to have to build the tables'

The dad said to the step-mom.

He put an ad on Craigslist and continued to spend his 40 hours at his job in order to maintain themselves on a sort of life-support, while she started to build tables. 

 

She taught herself how to use and to not be afraid of machines only boys were taught how to use. Learning to measure 3 times and then again. Learning the amount of patience required to sand rough wood into a finished piece of furniture. The frustration of the days that seemed to be three steps forward and two steps back. Developing the stamina and strength required for long days of lifting, sanding, building, bending, stretching - in ways a banker would never need to do.

 

 

 In addition to building the tables, she used her knowledge from countless college art classes to be able to draw table designs as blueprints and training in typography, graphic design and photoshop to develop a logo.  Applying her love of taking photos into product photography. 

 

Countless trips to the lumber yard, loading wood into the back of their Mazda 3 Hatchback. Lumber paid for by last penny of their checking account with the gas tank running on fumes. 

Those long days that turned into late nights the dad spent building after a full day of a full week of work.

 

Pushing back the voices telling them at 2am that it was never going to work. You have no idea what you are doing. Aren't you afraid you might lose your house? Who is going to buy from you anyway?

But then,

the emails came in. One right after another. Those emails turned into orders. The parents took those orders and turned them into tables and those tables went to real people with real families, looking for the same values in a table that was used to build it. Those families gave their real money in exchange, and the parents were able to pay their very real obligations. 

 

The orders continued and the parents continued to work. Day after day. Little by little. They paid cash for a little pick-up they named 'Woody'. When it became too difficult to work in the small space of their garage, they found a larger space to build in. The father was able to leave his job in order to put all efforts in building tables.

They were both working harder than they had ever before, working long hours with few days off and many times they would go home physically exhausted.

Yet, it didn't feel so bad. In fact, they found themselves looking forward to a day at work. 

 

As time went on they began to realize, the security of a bi-weekly paycheck and the luxuries a reliable stream of income brings  was being replaced with a sense of fulfillment every time a table is picked up, an outlet for creativity with every design, the benefits of exercise as a by-product of moving, and the ability to contribute to the local economy by taking away from the corporate world they used to be so immersed in. 

It is a on-going, terrifyingly-beautiful struggle built on hard work, love, the pursuit of real happiness and the amazing people who are willing to take a risk by buying a table that doesn't come with the same security buying from a corporate furniture store does. 

 

 

Hi. Our names are Britni and Peter and this is the continuation of the journey of our table-making adventure.

 

PNW FarmTables